Seventeen

Dropped my floss pick in the public restroom Left it there. The little girl watched me Apply my lavender eyeliner. A genuine thespian. Cadence of her blabbergab cutting on my mind I keep the company of viscid souls Not stark rock stocks as her canny revelation To the mirror "Do you have a bruised eye?" Jaded sadist I stick to my script, transfixed Parrying the searing murmur of her reworded echo: Why do you hide your terror inside? Speak it; and be made whole