Gepetto

His eyes are like mine.
Innocent.
His smile, his cheeks, his face.
Lovingly crafted;
(who else can tell you that?)
And then I breathed in him
(and me, as well)
an illusion of the rule.
The rotten tree trunk,
Moistened by tainted lips
and corruption from glass eyes.

Yet he follows a fairy
to pursue lustful desires
and fantasies--
these fairytale creatures!

His smile, his cheeks, his face--
Black as the sun and pale as the moon,
forever exposed in broad interview.