Seething between sin and scorn
I swallow all I cannot mourn
and smother what is scarred or torn
THEN TRACE THE FACE I'M LEFT WITH
I excavate what will not move
This womb of rage no touch can soothe
A tacit gesture to improve
AND TRACE THE FACE I'm left with
These fingers are my anodyne
Five tools that craft and realign
the shadow all my fears define
They Trace the face I'm left with
They hone this practice to deceive
to suffocate what I perceive
yet guarantee you will believe
the trace of face i'm left with