Ascetic Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Ascetic

She was born on reserve
-holds in hand a razor
-looking like carpenter
-arms and legs her timber
-cuts through, enjoys pain
-unaware of why, what
-unconscious, in blood…

I must write
I must write
I must write

I tell me and go round
-angry and betrayed
-by the word called:
-Modern…

She sits home, no school
-without hope, no model
-to play leader's role
-except for one devil
-in front, on wall-side
-talking of the celebs…
-and runway of pageants…

She is not one of them
-misses the standards
-twenty four
-twenty six
-twenty four
-neither has blue eyes
-nor her hair is blonde

What is life?
-rings and tolls…

"Welcome death! ! ! "
-she cries…
-sheds blood
-hopes to die