Her eyes are big,
Blue and long lashed,
Wide in serenity,
They hide her second face.
.
Owner of a sharp tongue,
Killer heels and keen ears,
An expert in a deadly game,
A true heart-stopper.
.
A picturesque beauty,
Yet inside – ugly,
She laughs with them,
Then spits at us.
.
She uses a mask,
To hide her true face,
A doll-like fake,
Behind it she is black.
.
Black like the night,
She stalks her victims,
Waits for us to fall,
A siren calling.
.
She prowls in her domain,
We are exposed,
Trapped in the cruellest place,
Behind the bars of society.
.
She is the master of disguise,
But cannot hide,
From those she taunts,
Yet we are invisible.
.
She can crush with a look,
Jagged eyes and jaded tongue,
Her words burn like acid.
As she giggles ice.
.
Difference is deadly,
Alternative and atrocity,
Blue hair banned,
Waist-line must be at a minimum.
.
She can imprison and corner,
Destroy and break,
She does as she pleases,
What a Bitch!
YOU ARE READING
A Little Thing Called Life
PoesíaA collection of poems that sum up and describe events, places and experiences that form to make up lives of many people existing in different circumstances.
