Standing On Fame's Edge
I stand here in front of a fractured mirror
Tracing veined lines and blemished pores,
That in my waif-like outline I dream
About spring’s young complexion…ripe virginal
The glint of nubile aura humbling dawn's luster.
Pity this lady; she’ll never understand
How her portraits are becoming duller now…
The texture of a hollow cheekbone, a saggy neck
Reflects all the vanity disguised as anguish;
My fear slowly withering under piled rouge
Only to crack along a theatrical stage of old reruns,
Blurring eye- mascara with heartbreaks concealed
Against twilight's kept illusions.
Pity this lady, a backstage prop , anonymous
Reliving her glamorous world lost in time’s curtain call—
Within a verbose oration across a dim looking-glass,
I stand farther away, paint my famed mouth
And wave at a vacant arena,
Consumed by an explosion of stars pouring on my face.
10/10/2018
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Contest of Craig Cornish: I Stand Here
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