A Beauty Metamorphosis

She stands in front of her client,
Who is a blank canvas,
Waiting
She dips in colors,
Painting them on her subject
With each delicate stroke
An artist of her work
Curling lashes,
Defining each feature,
Enhancing beauty.

Half way through,
Something is different about the artist,
Her body, a handle
Her head, and hair, bristles
Falling swiftly through the air,
Harshly landing
In a sparkling pool of powder.

Now she is in the hands,
Of another artist,
No longer
Is she
In control,
She is
Merely a tool.





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