Cement face staggers across tile floors
Armed with her broomstick
Prepared to sweep the afternoon’s presence
Not forgetting to first clean her countenance
Swaying pony tail and screaming hands
Removing other children’s grime
Also scooping out the own inside
Carved warily hollow and shallow
Careful not to replace herself
All watch briefly at the dizzy motion
To see little razors cut one deep outline
Closed mouth and she never finishes
Empty without thought or existence
Clueless to the self destruction
Her robotic dark eyes cause
Ignoring all their bitter remarks
That taste metallic and cold and blunt
Thin lips neatly slides back into line
Turns and unfolds glass anxiety
Minutes ache across the polished room
Time shudders to ashes and regret
She parts her lips with rust and great effort
Struggles to ease the voice box open
Stubborn, it seizes and chooses familiarity
Silence rises up and decides to lie down
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