She walks through the city’s gaudy glow,

Her unquiet grace in torpid midnight air,

Heels write stories only the lonely know

Of longing, forced laughter, and mutual despair.

Her sadness hides behind a smile.

She offers warmth for those who pay the fee,

Yet look behind her carefully constructed style

And you will see another she.

She’s practiced in the art of polite chat,

Of weaving silken moments, bright and brief,

Her eyes—two lanterns—never showing that

They sometimes flicker shadows dark with grief.

And in her step the wise will see

Others who have long left the player’s empty stage.

Sometimes, in her honest times she may truly see

That she has made her own mind-constructed cage.

 

(The above poem was composed using Microsoft’s Copilot, then modified by me. I meant to retain the poem as originally produced by Copilot. However, due to an oversight by me, only the present poem remains. This is unfortunate as it was my intention to publish both poems on my blog in order that my readers could take a critical look at the poem as originally composed by AI, and that modified by me).