Tuesday, 3 June 2014

Bitter Pill


Magpie Tales





Perfectly painted pink petals ,
well scrubbed two and thirty pearls.

Mask adorned with grease paint,
courting fame in a way, quaint.

Facing the arch-lights with a smile
with suppressed anger and rising bile.

In the silence of the night
with raging emotions, I fight.

Thirsty throat pale
swallow with Adam's ale
a bitter pill
sitting on the window sill.

I peel off the face-mask
face scrubbed bare 
no soul to see or ask
immune , naked and without care.

                                            

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