Why bear coldly the fear here,
When the other matter
Is the lair of this daughter par ma mere
In which a camera works to queer
The paranoiac steer to terror,
Twisting open the homicidal dare.
Martyr to a family, silent as another
Mother, I care when thus I flare
Since in these moments I cherish
I wear my fair stare
Not as a tear but as my hair.
Within the passion of a suicidal glare
Beyond the ken of some other selves' pair
I burnish the carrier of this manic scare.
So there.
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