Blind - Poem by Zog Gascoigne
The old stone wall stands tall,
A ghetto to imprison the different.
Below it -
Her eyes sit in their sockets,
One a marble and one a squashed grape.
Below that her mouth is like grain,
On a weathered piece of wood.
On her cloak,
A paracetamol calling out about the blackness crouched in front of her.
Around her neck,
A rear-view mirror reflecting only darkness.
Wrapped around her,
A black cloak,
A shroud of everlasting night.
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