Polythene

By
Is it the beating of my heart,
Or distant drumming?
Is it the blushing of my cheeks,
Or mere paint?
Do these eyes restrain,
The tears that long to spill?
Does this mouth swallow
The words yearning to be uttered?
Has this flesh abandoned,
The essence of its foremother,
Just for the sake,
Of its significant other?
Do these ears hear,
The opposite of what is said?
Does this stomach reproach,
Itself for being fed?
Is alive in myself,
The burning flames of ancient times?

Does this girl deny the world the most of her?





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