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Parlor Fresco
On the parlor wall, a canvas frame
Adorned with whispers of a fascist game
A warped impression, born of decadence and sleep
The perfect lie, where dreams and nightmares creep
A stenciled girl with eyes of distant gray
A masquerade of innocence, in every way
Her beauty is a snare, a trap to ensnare
The unsuspecting heart, with promise and with care
But I see through the veneer, the artful disguise And in the darkness, I find my compromise
On the parlor wall, a perfect crime
A '68 FBI wanted poster, faded design
A lazy Vargas pinup spread her thighs
But I see only the thrill of pale, painted lies
The Mona Lisa's smile, a ruse and a birth
A masquerade of irony, dancing on moth- eaten earth She hides her truth, a promise kept from sight As I piss on the pyre, the charade takes flight
Copyright ©
Beatrix Macabre
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