Beatrice V. 9th- Los Angeles
Perfect symmetry stares back at me, the eyes of a glassy clone She lies on my windowsill, trembling from the train That passes by my dormroom every night, the fraud of city life Is the thunder I must deal with every day. I watch the clone as she moves and goes forth Reaching a hand through the glass and hovering before me I seek to grip her hand but pass through it; she looks real but Is nothing more than smoke and mirrors. Or maybe I am the clone and she is the girl; her duty To entrust me with an archaic message of sagacity An ode from the gods that watch me watch her Sitting alone in the greatest city in the world. I thought I knew the translucent girl- knew Her curls and the shape of her neck and the twist Of her smile but as she lifted the corners of her mouth All i saw were fangs. Comments are closed.
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AuthorsStudents 6th-12th Grades month
November 2024
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