Processional of wounds exposed, degraded, exploited, and highlighted. Value lost and trampled over lost opportunities to establish vulnerabilities. I thought I saw a man foreign to my eye– he was kind, honest, and dignified. However this man sold the pieces that were given, bronze to gold so quickly was my destination and mold. Be kind and wait be gentle and sweet be the fix less face defeat. I am only his reflection his opinions and thoughts create my own lifes’ perceptions. I lost the way to themescara forfeited the might of my own direction. Who am I if not the apple of ones eye? If not adored, then not worthy. If not chaste than unholy. Topographical but he is the earth– nonsensical but he is the truth. Hysteria blinds to my con vexed emotions, proportions blown temperaments unhanded. I am the punchline that inspires the joke, I am the girl who aspires to be great but fears my power more than my untapped fate.