TRAUMA

An expert escape artist

Leaves no trace, no paint, no art behind

Shooting for the dark side of the moon

Precision in shapeshifting a body, a mind

Unrecognizable to the ones who knew their name

Running further into the trenches

Jumping into algorithms, a fearless game

Power to smell the aroma of change

In the winds, miles in the distance

Far past the furthest silhouette down a driving range

A pair of deep eyes into the pit of a soul

A look that intrigues and frightens most

A stare that breaks the mold

This is the road that they often go

A body camouflaged among mainstream

As though they could be the same

Like a whore dressed as the Virgin Mary draped in white cream

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