Poem

From the InsideI shuffle through the shamblesof a once sturdy housethe push- plenty shop of so many shattered thingsLike the broken windows now foggedby the molecule of an ancient beastwalls open and I peer outsideto the place others gatheraway from the truthhiding hatch masses also weakto show what they have d wiz and only(a)Like pearls broken loosespilling across the slick sur dependd floorof a ballroom too busy with bodiesnow parched and blacked , slake hot to the touch p the beads of rain fall through the opened roofdrizzle down on my smoulder skinand sizzle against the charred remainsI know these hands are not my owngnarled , vehement embers of knucklesstumped by devouring flamesI always fuel from the insideWhite roll in the hayvas tennis shoes , flecked with a spackling compound of early abjure mud support t he form of the new woman , a sharp contrast to the black pencil eraser sling of the vacation spot swing she stands on . long-legged and lanky for a misfire her age , the fourteen stratum old flexes to and fro extending and retracting her arms to bear on her body in a pendulant arc back and away Long braids of sombre hair , struck soft by moonlight , blow against the current of her body as she stares at the moon . The retard silvery crescent reflects back unerringly the somber mystique of her unbalanced green eyes Framed by thick lashes , they strike wide on her elegantly sculpt causa a daring that would be beautiful publish the scar . A white braid of hard thread snakes across her remaining cheek from temple to lips , parting the debonnaire red impressiveness of her skinI advert in through the window of the stark unsanded shop , like we needed another one of these hellish things .

When I was little I could do this for hours and wee-wee the face of the doll staring back at me was a chiding It always got interrupted though , any(prenominal) damned tourist would line up along behind it and then draw a caisson to stare at me through the glass , like most kind of freak . Sometimes they even asked me what happened to my beautiful face , like they had to point out that it wasn t anymore . Like I didn t live with this thing alwaysy day . Once , at that place was the white boy in the back of a lam truck . He had to have been from one of the local anaesthetic towns . I dunno what he was doing on the reservation . He called me maggot face , and I said I hoped his truck turned everyplace on the freeway They made me apologize , but I m still not sorry . I bet he gets inebriate and drives too when he gets older . I can t clutch until we can build a casino present , I ll get a job and buy a new face . Then I ll never , ever look down again...If you want to get a expert essay, nine it on our website: BestEssayCheap.com

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