She was the best movie put into a person.
Everything with her moved so fast but pasted in slow motion.
She felt like colors, and moved like gold.
Every moment that would pass is a moment that she’d hold.

Life was but a movie that would once come and once go.
She just tried her best to make the most of her show.
She filled it with movements of absolute grace.
And dialogue that would amuse everyone within her trace.
She looked like colors, and felt like gold.
Every moment that would pass, is a moment that she’d hold.

Blood rushes to her eyes, smoke filled in her lungs.
The wrong side of a cigarette burns the tips of her tongue
Worn out makeup, tear away clothes.
Walks alone in a place that she doesn't want to go.
A drop of a tear, a loss of self sense.
Brings us to the reason why this poem is past tense.
She looked like colors, and felt like gold.
Every moment that will pass is a moment you should hold.