you are no longer a face i recognize
or call my own
only anguish in your flattened state
against my skull
a slowly sinking, whirlpool
straying further and further away
from the portrait i once knew
your paint chips away
and your profile fades to gray
a distant memory in an unfathomable ocean
of shame and pity
features only exist as flaws
scattered with scars
though beneath the blankets of patchy skin
and the heaps of tired eyes
is a soul of a sorrowful child
who falls for the lie of beauty
and the veiny vines of sharpened pricks
that wrap around her frame
and she will spend every waking day
aspiring to fill a faux replica
of the face she wants to know
