edyahS

Her nickname is a metaphor
for the dark parts hidden behind the door
Smiling, walking down the street feeling like a million dollars
Broken, home alone, struggling with the monster.
Shades of grey, shades of red
a different color of sheets on each bed
Keeps it quiet and toned down, suffers without a sound
angels are kept in cold cellars until the sun goes down
Awakening as something more sinister
with a gorgeous face, white teeth, body full of blisters
Pay the fine and stroll along , she keeps her head down
The weight of the world takes up the space for a crown
Never learned how to feel anything for these different faces
because it's over as quick as it begins
could you imagine, spending your soul
to try and figure out the key to this maze?
left with an empty body and eyes hung in a daze
Truth is
Fear is a consuming addiction.