The anger bubbles in her throat
As the full-toothed smile
Twists aside, mirroring her
Oblique view of all around her,
Of all that's touched her,
Of all that hasn't.

Infants struggle to take air,
Ironically emaciated with vloated stomachs.
Beggars sleep under structures
That speak of progress and grandeur,
That cannot bridge the inequity.

She sees, peripherally, askew,
How others' budding youth was bartered,
Piece by piece,
Innocence and love

Her painted smile well-fed,
She seethes at the
Things that don't
Touch her flesh,
That disintegrate
Her resolve
To be hap-hap-happy,
To forgive,
As instructed.

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