Only a little rain...
Faces let me see the insides,
twitches give away the tensions,
and, my dear,
it's showing all over you.
Covered mirrors make for bad haircuts.
You'll be resigned to both now;
shedding tresses
that covered lesions
scratched deep,
never left
alone
to heal.
So, you'll don the dark veil
and sing beneath it songs morose and melancholy
so that everyone can hear
what they cannot see.
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