Plastic

Church bells are singing
Here she comes down the isle
Smile, and God catches her happy tear
A chameleon within branches after a storm
her slow movements chasing after a fly
an attacker as natural as the elements
a life ran in circles until momentum dies
and the cycle starts back again
each time more and more a war
trading scarred spaces for fillers
honesty for one more day of survival
Moments become a movie of her mark
a tattoo within the waste
White silk meshes with red roses
and purple butterflies with green grass fields
Grace unfolding in front of glassy eyes
she stands in front of this man
who daily masquerades caresses into every scar
she breathes in the inches of his tan skin
dreaming of her whole life ahead of him
More moments held in their speck of time
a cry hidden under classy decorations
Rich brown hair worn in curls
necklace hung in waves of pearls
She can't imagine where it would all go
when she reaches home and it is known
the dream is a moment dressed in plastic
a tattoo is her mark within all the waste
where she hoped her life would hold true to be.