Face Of Every Time.
The Sooty Residue which Discolours,
A Result Of Centuries Of Volatile Lights Scorching Her Face,
Her E.ma.ci.at.ed Face.
Deadly Pale Don't Wanna Be Her Friend No More
Embarrassed By Discoloured Face,
A Face She Secretly Adores.
(c)26/09/2021. Wired6.
👁 2💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.