Turi was not your surreal beautiful and smart girl,
She was distinctly exquisite and
In fact, she could easily be sat next to any silicon prince
And nothing on the outside would readily nullify that.
Raised on a staple diet of nobility,
The progeny of modern-day elitism
Few didn't envy the curse she bore
They were all rational and empty!
There were many like her-
Adorable piles of structure and perfection
Dressed in suits of tar and pageant pinks
Walking in rectified queues to their capitalist cubicles of reward,
Others boiling with frustration and
Politely hurling insults at the procrastination beast lurking in the road towards their promised nirvana.
But Turi was wrong!
She was not adorable!
She was not precious!
Turi was not gifted and neither did she churn marvels.
She was no more human than the man walking ahead of her!
She was the lovely girl everyone knew and loved,
And she went to bed that one night, anticipating the start of yet another revolution of the Big and familiar Cog.
Tu ri woke u p the next morning to a seemingly sto ch ast i cfate
Only to never realize Turi moulted overnight into an embracing enigmatic hysteria
We never noticed nor acknowledged the extension of her flux ion back then
And maybe, never will.
Bred on stoical dreams of her old overlords,
She'd never experienced tears of the emerging sybl
At once broken yet joined in her pain.
The fetus of emotion inside of her shattered the reflection in her mirror!
The cataclysm was ripe, having met the other side thus.
You should have followed me to that scene on the morning Turi became human
What'd remained of her pony-tails standing on end like polarized ferrous nails
Attempting to scream sense back into the jagged princess scattered all over her bedroom floor
You can only imagine what drama it was when her phone's Siri synchronized with her now waning sanity
Auto-magically invoking a sinister amen-break into her blaring speakers.
Not about to risk loosing it's 9th aether,
The feline beauty, now thrice scathed fled thru her window into the morning sun outside
Turi looked on in aghast awe as her little beast landed 4 floors to the bottom
Chaos had finally proven fit for survival, and celebrating the super-human she'd now become
She followed suit thru the window, to meet her darling fate.
Neither the students of Freud nor those of Jung have been able to successfully reproduce her metamorphosis
But we all envy and adore the hand behind those few undefiled, unstolen pastels at the Turi Memorial
And even our best Field Medalists can only scratch the surface of her post-transcendent algebras in the diaries she left behind,
Wondering as to what sort of entity possessed her form, on the day she alighted from her chaste and elite self
To become one of the most celebrated insanities of all time.
16 years she stayed in the ward that came to bare her name,
And the one thing she always spoke into the tiny black cassette recorder was
"Turi is a hu mAn now".
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The Awesome Art all from Saccstry (here and here).
The Sick and Genius music from +Kikaruu Namba (Datakineta).
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