Who helps birth her?
The cancerous bitter take home final
Foreshadowing the fact that is boring
Monsters only look skin deep but all beasts can’t be beauties
How can she smile with that shaky finger?
It’s a very distinctive stance.
Withheld from the roundabout direction in the bubble that burns
in that deep, deep shade of hallway.
The stairs will always be a night to remember, if only fondly
Held by faces scattered with eyelashes and padlocks
Fragmented narratives trapping ethnicity
Grounding and solidifying the static that blows the windex
Loosely stitched in the barrel of the cocked gun
But you can’t see the justification when it sits in your lap
You can’t break the silence when you’re singing the same song.