We have our minds in the right place.
But our hearts wander for a suitor
And we succumb to every convincing voice, wearing a disguise of charismatic gentleness.
But bears a greedful spirit of lust and simple compliments.
Guard thy temples.
Our stance are made up of broken dreams and lost, blank thoughts.
Beauty only exists on the outlines of our bodies, so they say.
And it never fails,
No, the circle never ends.
Don't forget of your true identity
That is, of a queen.
Carving and scraping off ever flaw with our own hands.
Leaving our skins to lie on the dirt ground and our foundations left to rot
And they leave us with a simple black silhouette.
Barely recognizable.
Who have you become?
Who have we become?
A chamillion, changing to every environment that graces thy skin with the light you think you needed to survive.
Have you forgotten?
Forgotten that you are a queen?
I once had a vision of living colorblind.
A life of nerveless hands and deaf put downs
of never ending scales and mindsets of newborns
The world was new and our minds were virgins
And I dreamed of a day, so vivid it appeared to be.