Poet of the Week: Kayleigh Hicks

I am bright yellow my face twisted into a grin you'll wince if you stare too long sunshine dripping down my chin

none of this is never called into question. A face without lines to chart my flaws, openness shown on a vacant expression, sustaining myself with bottled applause.

I welcome sleep with open arms and never injected ink nightmares into my skin, I do not have scars pressed into my palms and never watched myself get thin.

My feet are planted firmly in this world I live in. I take life for granted ignoring the suffering of others; blinkers made of skin.

I only place importance on my own life. I'd sell myself to avoid death's list, removing the gears, watching the clock unwind as I press a knife to time's wrist.

Because I was never taught how to be faithful, silken selfish spun lies were weaved into my hair, now I spin my own webs into the lines I speak. I am solid steel on my surface but beneath I am weak, a pale imitation of a girl stepping on stage to whisper my dishonest prayer.