Beautiful Worlds

by Faye Kusairi

Poltergeist of Yesteryears

She said she's fine; that it's better this time.

But her face, she cried furrowed with fuss.

She got ill and had lost all the will.

She refused to comprehend, the bones showing in her hands.

She dreams of elfin, thus vows she won’t consume.

Wasted away in her skin, needing to be lean.

Her life is so distraught, of famine she has been taught.

From a damaged self form; a need to be perfect is born.

Hollywood is what they crazes, now horror is the only thing she sees.

Hatreds of her reflection aren’t in perfections.

Feigning is no big treaty, she congest consumptions vary.

How long can she last?

She was in such a harsh fast.

Forever more, Faye K.

posted by Faye Kusairi # 20:11

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