The Thinker


Waiting for the thinker to

rear it’s ugly head

like a sneaky little monster

with poison in it’s eyes



ever evaluating…


This and that and all the smaller moments that make me, me

but not the girl

the fake one-the false

A painted face in a hall of painted faces

and scissors

and gauze


Disfigured faerie’s with broken wings

chopping at my face

my arms

legs and everything in–between

the cracks within the cracks

breaking against my back

until I’m completely bent


Perception now upside-down

Right-side up for the thinker


I can see you now

Spotlight shining on that poison laced pupil


You can keep on looking

but know that I will look back

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