I can’t rid of the bags under my eyes The crowfeet despise, all were lies, Conjured was an illusion of you Throughout my groping confusion evasive, flimsy A-m-o-r-p-h-i-c, innuendos I was subjected to your derision dissing me relentlessly deriding my appearance, disparaging my intellect as I stumbled and fell into the abyss Mocking doesn’t suit my countenance My lips desert dry, thirsty, parched An amazon no longer beats its drum My buoyant nature now laden with coarsened shroud Leaving a cardboard moon deprived of its shine Stars like candles blown out one by one No use waiting for the rising Sun The end of world does come, stopped spinning neath heavy ebon clouds Expectations unreal All zeal gone, listless is my spirit along with my illumination Now you see me unmasked in raw anguish I d r o o p jowls hang from endless torment endured like the drenched and cold, wounded hawk taken flight, eagle-eyed, a warrioress more determined and bold, traveling on with unlimited range and self-esteemed This bird, you c a n n o t c h a n g e
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Second Place