The devils foot soldier;
That's what you turned to be.
The one I thought that I could trust;
Confuses my memory.
You water the flower to feed the roots;
Thus only to pluck the petals.
It reminds me of how strong you are;
Strong like crimson metal.

But that metal rusts, and the flower dies after you've shed them limb by limb.
Stripping them down to their naked cores;
And exposing their deadly sins.

We're all like flowers, but don't water the roots if you'll only pluck our petals.
It'll show the ugly truth inside;
Like rusted crimson metal.

                                        Alysia Marie 2015 ©