I pretend to know how to smile,
Turn away and fake a laugh,
They’re not looking anyway.
I smirk at something sad,
Something helpless, sadistic,
My cheeks, carved stone, my
Eyes, dark rings. I’m happy.
No, really, I am! I just won’t
Show it to you, you pretend
To care, but you are plastic,
Your eyes painted spheres,
Smile? Too much, you ask
And beg too much! You
Smile, they stitched it on,
Rain, hail, darkness,
Holocaust: you smile.
Tell me a joke, some small
Promorphoric tale… try.
Knock, knock…
Who’s there?
My smile?
Sorry, he’s locked outside,
Cold, and inside a void: a
Desert flower covered in
Snow, waiting for the end.
Ability? An inevitability,
Chop-shop grind off the
Markings of me, replace,
Remove, recover my dimples.
It’s me, it’s me: please let
Me in!
Inevitability….
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