Worn
She was a muse
In the hands of those
Who handled her poorly
Who built castles in the sky
Upon her shattered smile
With the fractured pieces of her heart
Without regard for her unguarded while
To devour her like used rags
And recycled paper
“SHE WAS A MUSE IN THE HANDS OF THOSE WHO HANDLED HER POORLY”
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Two Faced
It was in a peculiar placeWhere time erasedYour mask bore a fraudulent smile
Fairytales
Torture me with proseThe unraveling of false daydreamsIn syndicated rotation
Bare
Devour me with eager eyesAs you watch me unlayerThe many faces I wearThe mismatched pieces
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