She stops the clock,
And whispers truth,
With elegance she begins to rue.
"It's the women of the world that suffer, you see;
Aesthetic perfection controlling everything."
And she begins to bleed,
For love, selcouth,
Something beautiful she finds in you.
She endures the pain of men to be,
A silent martyr of women's suffering.
POEM © DENIS CARON
- All prints are printed on premium archival paper.
- Polybagged w/ backing board (for protection and longevity of print until you frame it)
- 12x18 prints shipped in flat packaging.