What will the cat drag in next time?
Presenting you as a priceless treasure;
You were only painted gold.
This paint chips,
Flakes fall from your skin,
And when you walk,
A trail of false promises are left in your wake.

I was, as ever,
So eager to believe,
That perhaps you were not painted,
But true through the very whole of you.
And i am, as ever,
Proven incorrect.
Naive and stupid to believe in a false prophet,
To have hope something better lies ahead.

The cat spat you and your false colour onto the carpet.
I looked for a while before I removed you from my life.