Poem: Ghost Girl

Faked perfection is twisted citrus,
Distorted questions of amber fire,
When you’re good enough for me,
I’ll be good enough for you.

Every eye in the room on the faded ghost girl,
She was questioned by herself,
Thereby questioned by the world.

When you see yourself in shattered glass,
You see what the tricksters say you are.

Blur back into the world little ghost girl.

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About lowkiespeaks

I am a poetess, a mother-to-be, a pround woman, and stubborn beyound reason. View all posts by lowkiespeaks

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