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Monday, March 22, 2010
She's still alive.
When I found you, you were a fake.
An actress and princess of dismay.
Embroidery was not lacking as the symmetry was perfect.
You always had the right dye and the right things to say.
I often though about your mind and not about you.
The shadowed face caused by your covering hair protected you.
It shrouded your false expressions for symmetry was absent in your gaze.
When I found you, I was afraid that you were dead.
Poked you, but you twitched.
I feel through your color and was led away by your clever words.
I stole your style and perfected my own.
The gaze of my eyes, I took from you.
Here I am now with my art, and there forgotten you are with yours.
O' how I remember you.
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