Complexion's Just A Word For Mask

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A poem about shallow perception. Comments are appreciated, thank you

Submitted: January 31, 2009

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Submitted: January 31, 2009

A A A

A A A


Wax eyes aren't always shut to fever
mine saw you in every lovely, lonely corpse
too afraid to breathe
bleeding over greasy sores like oil tankards
whispering sick nothings to a jukebox
dropping nothing but dead bullets
screaming from the stomach of a shotgun

You fell out of my eyes and into her arms
out of disguise, with a heartbeat alarm

Are you bleeding
or am I breathing
or are you too afraid to tell
you're nothing but everyone
because you have no face in hell

I found a new way to keep up an act
of playing my life out on a stage
like laying a casket out for the dead
or holding a statue to your chest
and convincing yourself that you shouldn't breathe
not knowing yourself if we really do breathe

You fell out of my eyes and into her arms
out of disguise, with a heartbeat alarm

Are you bleeding
or am I breathing
or are you too afraid to tell
you're nothing but everyone
because you have no face in hell


© Copyright 2018 Alice Sykes. All rights reserved.

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