Cement Face

Cement face staggers across tile floors
         Armed with her broomstick
         Prepared to sweep the afternoon’s presence
         Not forgetting to first clean her countenance
         Swaying pony tail and screaming hands
         Removing other children’s grime
         Also scooping out the own inside
         Carved warily hollow and shallow
         Careful not to replace herself
         All watch briefly at the dizzy motion
         To see little razors cut one deep outline
         Closed mouth and she never finishes
         Empty without thought or existence
         Clueless to the self destruction
         Her robotic dark eyes cause
         Ignoring all their bitter remarks
         That taste metallic and cold and blunt
         Thin lips neatly slides back into line
         Turns and unfolds glass anxiety
         Minutes ache across the polished room
         Time shudders to ashes and regret
         She parts her lips with rust and great effort
         Struggles to ease the voice box open
         Stubborn, it seizes and chooses familiarity
         Silence rises up and decides to lie down