Wide spread shocked eyes watch
Her hands move to her glasses
And push it right upon her nose.
Cherryblossom red glansing lips
Move up and down again
As her nicotine words spread slowly
She holds pictures in her hand
Black spoiled ink in variating forms
Whoring with bloodred and deepblue
“What do you think my child?
What can you see?”
Palet 1:
I see a little girl lying in a bed too big
And I see this pervers naked man
Coming in the door, the room, her.
Palet 2:
I see a wasting teenager crawling in dust
Lingering memories pinned on her sleeves
For the wold she is left to see
Palet 3:
I see what could have become an adult
But it’s just a dream, a fantasy
Of those who never wanted to see
“You do not see my child”
Her hands pull the pictures away
And the illusionized fragments
Fall on the coffee-stained carpet
Her mesmerizing parfum sheds
Purple drops on her blurry gaze
She walks towards a gaunty window
Letting her chaotic thoughts run
Her haisty picked eyebrows fold
Her make-up fakeskin into a frown
She looks at my lether seat in
A hestitant moment of thoughts
“I am the girl in the pictures
am I not”
Echoes through the weary room
“yes” is her siggarette anwser.
Than..
The door opens
And a girl comes in
“To whom are you talking m’am?”