“The Tragedy of Faces”
Having one or losing one;
They are one and the same.
I met a girl once, with a pretty one.
She made all the other girls look so plain.
Dumpy Brown; Like banana peels in back seats of cars.
That is the tragedy of faces— having one is losing one;
We all end up like the beautiful fruit basket,
after the holidays have come and gone.
We are left empty. Nothing but ants.
Nothing but worms and mulch;
And a little toe tag,
tied to the bow, that says our name— “all my love, mom.”
Of course her face had gone away long before you ever met.
The tragedy of faces.
Having one. Losing one.
Rising Action. Falling action.
In between comes the climax—
reaching the old apple core.
And it gets written
all over your
in scars and crinkles; Until—
you are one with your own