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Self Portrait - by Hannah Allcock
Inside my thoughts
are flies of winter,
Outside are eyes of the inner.
Piano tunes in minor
clog plugholes,
used to cleanse the soul.
Throwing up tastes,
misplaced elements of time,
a bile most acrid yet sublime.
Stained versions replicate,
fragments of a self innate.
The molded eyeless features,
between the bevelled glass
a brutality of beauty,
long surpassed.
A collected nothingness:
this is who I am.
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