Innate with a fresh epicranium,
smooth like a marble!
Duration of her absolute head got short-lived
As if her middle name was trouble!
She wish she knew her ingle hue was purple
Too bad, no remembrance since her crown was redecorated!
An ordeal! At a tender age,
Tattooed her with seams!
One symmetrical, two adjacents, As if students learning about lines in an Arithmetic lesson!
Some curved, crossed, arrowed, arcs!
Hmm! What a tragedy!
True, she is cicatrose...
A dent, depression, enough to store water like a well, slit across her hood.
Great confidence needed to be bald because she is scary like an unvarnished wood!
A mere headache! Just a mere headache!
She wished it could have given her a break!
But no! More malady manifested.
She found refuge in a Hotel- Dieu.
Angels in white coats slit her head summit with sharp blades, she woke with a bind
Binding her stitched bald head.
Little did she know her epicranium will be cicatrose,
Which psora when exposed.
Sad, her head is cicatrose!
By LeboGFaith
Categories:
psora, memory,
Form: Free verse