Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Underneath Her Clothes...

Underneath her clothes,
There is a heart, barely beating,
slow, like molten gold,
its virtue, rises and falls.
But is it her face that denies it?
Or her ugly shows through the mask?
the mirror cracks in laughter,splitting,
but nobody ever cared to know.

Underneath her clothes,
there is a woman dying..
But they only see her chest heaving,
not her running out of breath.
And she bends to clutch her knees,
hoping someone would carry her home,
lay her down on a bed to rest,
and for once not hop in.

Underneath her clothes,
theres a will that cant keep fighting,
arms open as she feels it drown,
body sinking in this well.
Underneath her clothes,
theres a child who wants protection,
but no-one turned out the red lights, Roxanne.
And you have no price, to sell.