Concealing a Battle
It’s happening again.
Red-hot Guerrillas breaching my porcelain surface,
Angry little bombs exploding, leaving
my land a red war zone,
And I can’t find Concealer,
who has gone A.W.O.L, deserted its place in line,
after Foundation, before Powder.
I send Hands to search the recesses of my desk,
the scattered costumes on my floor.
Their time bombs tick
And I need Concealer for this daily battle.
After the red formations attack my foundations,
they battle against Powder,
forcing my team back to expose my land;
blemished, riddled with unwanted lumps.
A wasteland uncovered,
and Concealer my only defence able to
hide the scars, the age, this weakness.
I send on the second wave;
Foundations, Powder, Mascara – all charades to
distract the public from my flaws.
Reluctantly I slither out into their gaze,
Exposed,
praying my cover hides what the
snarling, ruthless army
strives to conquer: to
Unmask what I truly am.
Copyright © Holly King | Year Posted 2011
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