I smear war paint on my face, (a protective mask of lipstickmascarablush) As I go to meet my executioner. Maybe I’m fixin’ to die in this fight, but shit, son. At least I’ll be pretty.

I smear war paint on my face,

(a protective mask of

lipstickmascarablush)

As I go to meet my executioner.

Maybe I’m fixin’ to die in this fight,

but shit, son.

At least I’ll be pretty.

Tags: gpom poetry writing beauty mask makeup bandana