27

It's not very nice so I'll refrain from too much description.

to waste a portion of page
would border upon tragedy
not worth the center stage
barely a solitary street soapbox
for euphemisms polished with grace
when a rotten ravaged rib cage
of disfigured dermal abominations,

contusion colored staph abrasions
ask themselves in sheer amazement
how translucent silkened butter skin
becomes a wounded, walking
collage of crayoned cacophany
draped in adornments marked with pain
self-inflicted future life's shame
barely a scrap of excuse to demand
the compliment of acknowledgement
from the pen of an observant hand