TWAIN FACES OF BEAUTY
Beauty is a gift, but also a curse;
in others' psyche, she's always the first—
by innocence or from unrighteousness,
fervor births action—one hard to ingest.
"Mirror, mirror, on the wall, I implore,
vitiate the visage—create an eyesore
as the reflection I see makes them do
deeds I'm ashamed to voice even to you."
Is what she prays for in front of the glass—
sought comfort with the patience she amassed,
but after courtings and crimes, there was none,
only dandling hands she tried to outrun.
Huge gems, knavish letters—made to confuse,
somehow it borders 'tween love and abuse.
Clandestine meetings, pursuit in private—
twain meanings for the desire they sate.
She strides confidently beneath a cloak—
a camouflage that sheathes her from the hoax.
A panic-stricken deer in crowns and gowns,
without a shield on sight as wolves surround.
Alone—lonely in the turf of the sly,
not a soul perceives she wants an ally
as not a soul wanders beyond her eyes—
so not a soul is allowed at her side.
YOU ARE READING
NIGHTMARES
PoetryA collection of self-written poetry about the writer's nightmares and trauma.
