“Ana speaks slow and quiet”
There is a song
that some hear
when seeing their face
in porcelain,
or their lies
in mirrors.
Striving for an absolute
they can never reach.
Starving for a perfection
they will never find.
Ana sings slow and quiet
while showing dolls;
many plastic passions.
When Ana crescendos
the world falls away
into a pulse machine
and healers words.
But after the tune,
in Ana’s silence,
all that’s left is
a wire frame and
a half beating heart.