Our faces are not our own.
That is forbidden
Not by judge, but by jury.
Masquerading with
Same minds but different bodies;
Feathers of peacocks,
Rainbows of acid-etched steel.
These beautiful lies
Are for our own delight, yes?
We are plain, dun things
Wanting glass beads and badges,
Dusty silver cups,
A reward for our mantle.
Torn apart without,
They fear under their silk shrouds.
Behind tail feathers
All birds have naked pink skin
Disgusting and true
Nobody wants to look first.

---

Yes, I made poetry. I like to practice things I don't do often.