Top Hat - A Hunger Artist
A HUNGER ARTIST by Top Hat
There are pieces of her
Left long to wither on the root
Or cleft too soon from sapling branch
'Til, lo, she is sculpted in an image not her own
Her face is stony white and devoid of all feeling
Her intent is to mimic you, to deceive
Every stitch is a spell she weaves
Holding her parts together, delicately sewn,
She is animated by her breath alone
Her death is her life's work
Self-denial her palette, all shades and hues of suffering
She is a Hunger Artist
There are pieces of her
Left long to wither on the root
Or cleft too soon from sapling branch
'Til, lo, she is sculpted in an image not her own
Her face is stony white and devoid of all feeling
Her intent is to mimic you, to deceive
Every stitch is a spell she weaves
Holding her parts together, delicately sewn,
She is animated by her breath alone
Her death is her life's work
Self-denial her palette, all shades and hues of suffering
She is a Hunger Artist