
Her silken, quivering vortex mind
invents stories to recreate herself
for those who hunt her like prey
They do not have the ability
to lift their steel knives to her
pale and golden throat
but their words tear
trails of scars across her flesh
So she slips into a new skin
musters a new voice
paints a new face
deflecting the monsters' barbs
with a radiant illusion






















Comments: 53
bob, it goes way deeper than just being accepted.
serene she seems
her aloofness screams
"you can't touch me"
inadvertently
a solitary, silent tear
leaves its telling trail
on Teflon skin
suppressing wail
blinks away her hurt
the ache of happiness ne'er convey
dons her Velcro smile
and walks away
This is Ann's day to moderate. I read this on Facebook and have loved it again here.
Ann would feature it, I'm sure, so I do, in her stead.
Thank you for posting your work to Gather's Luminous Writers and Artists. Now Featured.
Thanks for sharing with The Triple Name Club.
Top notch work, my friend.
I love your picture perfect poem of sorrow and illusion, Michelle!!! And I'm glad it's not autobiographical, but fiercely supportive of a student!
xxxx
Thank you for sharing and submitting to
The Surreal Circus.
Illustration by Frank Frazetta? It's very similar to his style.
I'll try Bing next time...
Featured with grace in the The Surreal Circus.