Truth halts before your face. Dreams crash at your gates.
Sensitivity is a waste of time for you. You never listened.
Tears would make you scoff. You glowed unnaturally.
They attach themselves to you because they think you never
Fall apart. They don’t know you when you’re alone and disheartened.
I’ve witnessed life enveloping your face, and you, torturing it into submission.
You’re a doll with a smile that never wears off, you’re never touched, nor moved.
It takes an entire life to maintain artifice and death to liberate the remains.
Your lowland value system. You play by all the rules and never lose. And you
Make them admire you from afar. They adore the image you glue on your skin.
You hide yourself in your own miserable cellars and the truth never makes a sound.
A woman who murdered everything that makes her vulnerable is a girl no more.
“Dame in Gelb” by Max Kurzweil (1867-1916)
Croque-Melpomene 