When I stand naked facing the mirror
I can almost make out my black heart
Looming behind pale skin, twinning an
Omen; ridiculously frightened of itself.
My heart, never really mine, cajoles me,
To love someone.
An ink-pot of soot filled liquified carbon,
My heart, is incapable, of love. Caged by
A pair of tired ribs, it rests, hoping to be
Sterilized by disease and despair. My
Beautiful black heart resembles a gutter.
The blood in my veins runs amok in my
Body, mimicking an ignorant third world
Dictator, whose wives equal his soldiers.
I am the dictator and I am the oppressed.
I have the blackest and the darkest heart,
Which, when the day comes to an end,
Cajoles me, to love someone.
I can almost make out my black heart
Looming behind pale skin, twinning an
Omen; ridiculously frightened of itself.
My heart, never really mine, cajoles me,
To love someone.
An ink-pot of soot filled liquified carbon,
My heart, is incapable, of love. Caged by
A pair of tired ribs, it rests, hoping to be
Sterilized by disease and despair. My
Beautiful black heart resembles a gutter.
The blood in my veins runs amok in my
Body, mimicking an ignorant third world
Dictator, whose wives equal his soldiers.
I am the dictator and I am the oppressed.
I have the blackest and the darkest heart,
Which, when the day comes to an end,
Cajoles me, to love someone.
