I wither. I fail. I scream
I will not wake. Not ever from what awaits.
Silver abode and dark tusks.
No room for me. No room for mourning.

Sharp tongue and jolly seeming eyes
not aware of the deception
not wary of the sun that sets.
Because dentures and all, silver abodes
with dark tusks.

They come and find me. Not gold. Silver
Nor a gleam of a crown.
A gleam of parchment and sharp ink
for that is my silver and my home.

Today something beautiful happened
I saw myself again
I looked in the mirror and smiled
not because i did anything special
or looked exceptionally nice
I saw my wide eyes and uneven elephant ears
my crooked, uneven, stained teeth
and saw the odd beauty in it
I saw that the pain my eyes have seen glisten
I saw that shy smile turn into one of bliss
I saw me for my flaws, black heads and all
the honest beauty for what it is