


She’d grown accustomed to the stagnant air
Begrimed ink suffused her hands with blotched lines
Struggling to reclaim pedestals stripped bare
Blindly adhering to fallacious signs
Of her struggles they remained unaware
Fooled by feigned laughter and dejected smiles
Their little angel imprisoned in snares
Her cautiously restrained tears beguiles
Belligerent thoughts lie, “She needs repair”
Weaving their way around her desolate island
Populated with Acrimonious tendencies
And Terraces of despair and desperation
She’d grown accustomed to the feeling of fatigue,
Arrows shot through Achilles heels and exploited fears
Begging the fates to change her destiny with those shears
Crestfallen on her knees
The mask she wears deceives
Unrelenting force of false fantasies flooded by folklore
and blurred expectations in the minds of the onlookers
Who saw only through their stupor
Deception
By denise santiago