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.

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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