pain-alarms...

When you're engaged with toiletries
Front of the oval mirror beauty you tease
I just become a poet
Watching your heaving secret
The way you add mascara black
With brushes hide your undereye sack...
The way paints evaporate
For the city you become all again set...
The way within your corset you hide
Lone memories of evening rides...

Front of the mirror you choose to wipe
Pains and struggles by your singular swipe
Of that powdery blotting sponge
Instant beauty how you launch!
How you go through a simple makeover
Ready yourself to be the perfect lover...
O man! what a supple way you choose
Pain-alarms... how you put 'em on snooze!

But I know at the end of the day
The alarm will be ringing to sway
You again with tales of grief
Making you teary and you would sniff...
At that moment dear, I wouldn't write
For your helpless soul brings me gory sight
Then dear, I would cease to be
A scribbler nonsense, a poor soul me!
I would then be your lovely kid
Stand by you with a sponge really big
I would then try my best to blot
Stains and blemishes that you forget not...