I paint my lips in red,
A colour of bleeding cherries,
A sinful delight embracing
the grace of death fall upon deaf ears.
Farewell, mi amigo, the dust settles
and I am born again, set off into the
world, to find life and laughs, but
I only wish I could ignore it all.
I rise from my bed, confused
and tormented, another day in this world,
a paper thin world of marionettes,
this is my life. Residing
in heaven, there is no hope for me,
I shall never be, anymore than
what I have become at this
very moment. You’ll see.
The truth is always born raw,
bared to the world, for even
the children to see. This life,
is not a life for me. Petals.