Pale white face that sees no blood

Hard lead stare

does throw the mud

Sculpted lips that speaks no words

Scratch

bleed and tear

Short hair is penciled in

gentle like wisps on a wind

Nose is rounded

at the tip

There is a downturn

of the lip

THis picture is naught but a terror of me;

The way I cannot be perfect

Without my face set in ice and stone.