The Architect

The Architect by Valerie Parente

She who wears the claw of chrome,
upon her right hand,
can create worlds,
from a pathological plan.

It’s the illness in her defective bones,
that whispers the blueprint,
adjusting the world order,
to rebuild from the ruins.

She’s made it her grand mission,
to map out this pain,
now it’s her duty,
to make a home out of a maze.

With bright pink locks of hair,
she has your attention,
they agree with the task,
but don’t understand the reference.

She’s called a freak when she lays it out,
with her architectural mind,
but her cultural impact,
is an outcome that doesn’t lie.

She has an eye for constructing it all,
knows where to lie the stones,
knows where to build up,
knows where to dig a hole.

Everybody wants the stigma to vanish,
but rarely do they realize,
that to see past the roadblocks,
we need to open our eyes.

– Valerie Parente (6-16-2021)

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