It Always Costs Someone

Grace stands above
A city of caricatures,
She is proud of her skin,
-Not despite, but because of her scars
She looks down and sees distortion.

Grace waits alone next to the rails
For unspecified trains
And unsuspecting breath,
-Steady and comfortable
She will make them gasp when she is recognised.

Grace lies and listens to her name,
The way it is flung around
Is corrosive to her motivation,
-She is already spent
Still willing to lay down more.

Grace stands aghast and horrified
Unable to break through sediment layers
Of expected ease, because
-She has been so misunderstood,
Slandered by those that claim her.

Grace sits, tired and grey
Exhausted by rumours of her impertinent relations.
‘Lies’ she whispers like heavy water;
-Destruction for those who assume
To have found a cheep way out of it all.

Grace calls follow.
You can’t have her if you watch her leave.



Written September 2010

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