Corrosion
She’ll lure you, entice
with promises of wealth,
and no want.
She feigns plenteousness
while stealing a breath each day;
her veins, jaundiced.
Will you follow her to the ends of the earth—
seek Shiny Dawn,
though each morning reveals
a dusty dream?
Flecks of gold rest on your pillow
crushed by the heady weight of pursuit.
Rare, aesthetic beauty,
she is.
Eke out your fortune by tracing the veins
in hand.
Her blood does not corrode
but you
will chip away your life
underground,
clinging to the walls.
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©Prasanta, May 2016
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Written for the Tweetspeak Poetry Prompt – click here to read more.
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