Norma’s genes are not human

Gushes of blood

In the black and white ink,

That dragged her through the mud

And sent her to the brink.

She drank the bleach

previously used

To blot out each

Word which oozed

The pus of her spots,

the goo in her eye:

It all pools and clots

Into one big lie.

How dare she wake up,

Without her makeup?

They are all spies,

She should pander to them

-Not have panda eyes.

She didn’t ask

For her pedi stool...

Or her casket.

(She’ll probably drool

In that too).

There’s no grey area

To save her;

Any imperfection

Turns the tide,

No confusion,

Just black and white.

Until she died:

Finally a day,

They see grey,

In her skin

At least she’s thin!

She’s fucking dead,

And I see red

 

 

 

 

 

◄ Buried alive

Talking to myself ►

Comments

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Hannah Collins

Tue 28th Apr 2020 14:31

Strong writing.

Hannah

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