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Counting cracks in her mirror,
(That imitate rivers in the map)
With a mutinous, mulish mouth,
Thrashed it twice for its helpless honesty.
Petrified flames, hiding lamps.
Prada and Gucci could not wrap her ego
That is wrinkling across her dead cells.

Bowed her head before rumors, rejected all Gods
Molded herself into a fancy man- made sculpture
That powdered away when autumn popped.

Forever laughed at full round cheeks
Carefully preserved her bamboo waist
Until winter crashed.
That went grey.
What was the use of this pride?
That couldn't even push the wind.

False poets praised her oracle eyes
Colorless like oblivion
That failed to chirp inside her fleshy thoughts,
That could not hold together any soul.
Yearning for that bubbled, elephant spotlight
That pushed away all from her greasy life.

Incomplete dreams crawling down
Like colors of Mona Lisa in a rainy day
Rusted soul, mourned for the phony beauty
Reduced to nothing but an old cat lady.
My poetry won’t surrender before this grease-world.

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