The Golden Bell

A swirl of a reflection looks back at me

Ice cold eyes and phantom fangs

snickering ever so wickedly

So you think you are pretty?!

It laughs again- sickly,

like a dense grey cloudy hill

smearing lipstick stains and black circles against my will

But then a stroke of golden bell

fades the grey and reveals the blue-

forever sending the blues to hell.

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