Cut and paste

My mind 

is a 90s magazine,
lonely in a pink bookshelf.
She chokes from modern shades,
but still admires her inner self.
She notices everything that fades,
like that hip hop song and an elf.
One thing makes her sick & wither,
—that she's left naked in cold weather,
when every memory of what's beautiful
is cut out and pasted 
to the introverted snot-nosed wall.
She cries for the lost warmth,
like the candlelight that dazzled,
and the next time you look for it,
it married the sailing wind.
The rest is in the trash can,
they'll go away with a hurricane.
Guess what song festers her wound?
"They read, cut and paste,
but are never experts."

©toosole