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Monday, December 12, 2005


Masks

They are lined up
on the shelf.
The girl goes there
every morning
and chooses one.
Many have never
seen her face.

She hates her face
her scared, scared face.
A pot of hot water
and a ten year old girl
met to create
bad burn scars.
She has hid her face
ever since.

They are varied,
those masks on the shelf.
Animal faces,
mockery of gods,
flower patterns.
Many prase her
for the creativity
of her masks.
But don't ask her
to take them off.
Please, for your own good.

************

Well, do you like it? The first poem like this I've written in a while, eh? Heh.

Well, see ja. *slips off*


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