At Night

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Her lopping tresses
Matched her charred grace
And led her down
To a spiral hazelverse.
Like adolescent China
Or a miniature petticoat,
She was a walking
Coincidental paradox.
Her maroon melancholy
Mixed with zigzagged formaldehyde
Led her to acid constellations
And incorrigable escape.

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mady.neal said...
Dec. 4, 2013 at 8:27 am
This poem gave me goosebumps!  I think that while everyone got a clear sense of what was going on, you left it abstract, which was really great!  The vocabulary used was amazing!  
LifeOfChey This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. replied...
Dec. 4, 2013 at 10:17 am
Thank you so much! It really makes my day to know that :)
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