My aunt

By
The petals of a flower,
like the layers of human skin.
The exterior, filled with
beautiful bright hues.
My eyes can't drift away
from the image of
perfection, flawlessness.

Sadly, the exterior is always deceiving.
Its lovely, soft petals,
are filled with a
hard, rotten
inner core.

I wonder how something
so extravagant,
could be so heartless,
so inhumane.

A sad laugh escapes from my mouth,
as I realize,
I am describing
my very own aunt.





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