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Prom.

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High heels,
Scuttle over the clicking tile
Like cockroaches
Looking for prey, perhaps
Or a new face to crawl into
They smile when
The piercing scream swirls into the air
Shattering, a high tremolo
Flying past
Deaf ears
Laughs ring out, wave after wave
Because it is real and not something
Which does but does not exist
Sleek cascading waterfall hair
Glides down the mirror
“Oh! Has anyone seen my –“
The invisible threads
Holding them down?
Ears perk up at the sound of scratching
Metal beat drum, the pulse of bodies
Ignorant, perhaps blissful
Still the silence lays heavy
Upon the cold bathroom floor
Through the tears and smeared mascara
Of loneliness



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