A Postulant Lie

Her eyes well
reflecting self sorrows;
cascading refrains of a difficult present.,
of advantage taken
innocence defiled.

A world of persecution- postulated
all face her direction.
Her figure trembling without defense.
Suffering projectiles
from spite filled assaults.

We all turn
we all attack.
Her cardinal refrain.

She,
hair an oxidised rousse,
stature -statuesque
skin porcelain pale.
Rouged by blemishes
atop her delicate features
emits an odour
stale and sour.

Her eyes a shallow blue guarded
by a duplicitous naivete,
hinting egoistic scheme,
gushing a parasitic pity.

Until we all turn
until we all attack.

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