Paint me like your crimson heart,
stains of black with little scars,
You’ll find me hiding under this carpet
muddled in some muddy disguise
Unbeing of me is a choice unforgiving,
you could see if you just had eyes,
I’ve walked through a century,
split between lands and races,
and round the corners of hopes and dreams,
somehow, this hatred always wins,
Enraged, rage against all that I see,
against this mirror, I could see just me

Sign In to know Author