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  • 11 years ago
She's in the
flourescent bathroom,
dabbing on fake skin
a little darker than
her own.
Outlining her hazel
eyes
Cleopatra-like,
Pouting and plastering
a potion
from a silver tube
on her lips.
She looks down at me
looking up at her and
smiles.
I wonder how
I will ever learn
to be beautiful.

R.P. Coursey

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/beauty-71/
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