Genus Mahogany
Paints her face
Like the walls

In temporary

That permanent
Like cockroaches
Hide behind

Waiting for fallen
Crumbs of

The picture of health is smeared with non-existence, not accessible for purchase, nor space on the wall.

Only the smiling have been framed, hung in minds not their own, critiqued to scale ladders that not even hungering pigment would dare to climb.

Judge and jury express pain and disappointment with ease, but expression doesn’t alter inception. Every shell has an order that not every family can place.

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