Snatched.

I have silenced myself,
bound my words:
medicated thinking.
Twisting my thoughts, ringing
out all my intentions.
They spill into the sink,
gushing with madness I’m
glad to lose.

I borrow mum’s make-up,
doll myself up, painted.
If you look too closely
you’ll spot cracks,
a glitch in the matrix.
Put in contact lenses,
(masking red)
paint smiles
even your lover would
believe. Fooled by the work
you have done.
Desperate to cover,
hide in fear.

Pass me my crown, darling,
didn’t you realise
I’m a queen?

-Alex W. (First draft for NaPoWriMo 27/30)

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