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What the World Sees -- poetry by Asha Gudipaty

tapping of the soft, manila Folder, the hot pink nail touches my fate.

it’s a cheap job, I think from the hot waters of my chair.

Price Tags and Bragging Rights don’t measure to dreams.

priceless, for the eyes that live

on a racetrack. it’s tiring.

he’s suddenly chasing me.

she’s watching me, round, and round for infinity.

hello beautiful crescent! witness my demise on the edge.

my arms seem free and wide as Mother Nature’s Tears.

Purple and Black, bruises hide behind mirror beside me

whose whispers calling louder each time, “run!”

triggering an escape to a nonexistent hug.

wind up in my creature’s den.

toys line our skin, beaten to the pulp for Entertainment.

lying the thoughts down, the greeting of a low growl.

oddly safe, No

that Forbidden word

is perched on a


I, insignificant pest, steal it for a moment

paste it over the ceiling, White ceiling

White as the spotlight, imprisoning this moment onto a Film camera.

where bright flashes and Ink strokes and lipstick stains follow.

tranquilizing, paralyzing, sanctifying a Lie.


Asha Gudipaty

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