Thursday, April 21, 2011


A red siren upon my cheek
Calling out in shrill laughter

Beckoning an audience,
As it spoke, neurotic flashing beaconed from the reddish space,

Poke and prod I played around with it,

For some time, for much longer than I thought,
After quite some time,

The siren sang her song no more,
Instead a letting occurred

Filling the basin a thick red sight,

Beastly my mind arranged my face to be,

Over exaggerating this blemish,
In the same fashion I had the initial trace,

Vanity became a burden I was unaware I had kept locked away

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