Your skin, against a backdrop of red.
Ebony curls, rolled up with hate,
Chocolate irises, a tempting bait.
Your complexion, an ivory white,
Masking a swirling vortex’s might.
Your world, against a blanket of grey.
On a bed of roses; there you lay.
But their beauty has a price to pay.
So you turned to the red, to shine as they may,
To try and save your heart’s remaining frays.
Your soul, against that vortex of black.
Shining obsidian, all the luster, it lacks.
You wish the ropes would cut you some slack
But all they do it string and wind it all back
And so you cut and slash and hack
Until that red is all you lack.
Your skin, against a backdrop of red,
The backdrop stained with your red.
