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Oct 2018
The new car is a facade,
you can see it in his smirk;
there's a black tar soul
under its white bodywork.
He sells his demons
under a snowy form,
he finds his peace
on a green heavy storm.
No one has ever
know him very well
but they know
he's related to a cartel.
He has lots of fun,
too may things he enjoys,
not realizing
he's the devil's toy.
But I think he's the evil,
as cruel as can be.
He preaches his word
of magnetic philosophy.
You're cough just for fun.
Glowing sparks in aquamarine.
Comfy sea-scent room,
you wish to stay in.
You get a sugar rush
every time you see him.
Waiting for his company,
not the best way of being free.
You sit there beside him,
pretend to rely.
He offers you something,
you don't have to pay.
Tho his soft touch
turns your skin into concrete
you find yourself at his door
dying to repeat.
Carolina
Written by
Carolina  22/Argentina
(22/Argentina)   
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