Poem Hunter
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Sorry eyes, lurk in the murky depths,
She wonders what she is,
Hidden, kissable red lipstick and made-up coal black eyes,
are what conceal her.

Hair covers her hellish face,
As she stairs below the surface,
What she has done, and who she has become
Haunt her.

Lingering below eye level vision,
She begs to be lifted above,
But no-one sees,
No-one will accept her,
No-one will forgive her dreadful mistakes.

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