Enter Home Planet News Poetry of Issue #6                         Page 42
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Blue girl,
You she'd your fear,
Like a snake's skin,
There is a grace,
In survival.
There is a grace.
When you were born,
To die.
You count good deeds,
Like dollar bills,
They sustain you,
In this
Systemic disease,
Painted in red,
On your doors,
You take out your black marker,
And scribble,
Love wins,
Over it.
But does it?
When you are told.
Put a mask on.
You say no.
And smile.
You know.
Is a rare commodity,
In this day.
Is not negotiable.
Repeat that.
Is not negotiable.
He wears his lie,
Like a shiny cross,
And lures you in
To the closet.
When you go to bed at night,
You see his face.
In the morning,
You wake,
And the sun shines on
The cracks,
In your ceiling.
So, you break it.
And build a plaster heart,
From the wet, muddy pieces,
And hold it in your arms,
When you pray.

  Elizabeth Stansberry