Prying eyes and glances that pass by
dictate rust cameras that know only hunger rhymes
the exposure of imperfections
the “excess” consumption
Little girls don’t know
The wicked spell
that will consume their souls.
How the bathroom floor will feel more like home
And the secrets
that you will promise to never tell
in fear that they will no longer help.
A Boom rings, sirens call
Collages of silent gags
Decay’s rage comes taunt in your gasps
Down the child’s rabbit hole
The origin of acceptance
tied to the toilet bowls you dance with.