Vanity

A red siren upon my cheek

Calling out in shrill laughter

Beckoning an audience,

As it spoke, neurotic flashing beaconed from the reddish space,

Poke and prod I played around with it,

For some time, for much longer than I thought,

After quite some time,

The siren sang her song no more,

Instead a letting occurred

Filling the basin a thick red sight,

Beastly my mind arranged my face to be,

Over exaggerating this blemish,

In the same fashion I had the initial trace,

Vanity became a burden I was unaware I had kept locked away