A regal woman brushes her daughter’s hair –
waves of golden grain –
a child with eyes bright
like the sea.
A good child, ever so obedient,
she heeds her mother’s words,
though wishes for emancipation.

Womanhood come soon enough,
and the daughter breaks away
(lips pale pink).
With room to breathe
she grows, becoming brighter
and stronger with each triumph.

Swift as an eagle,
the young woman takes the world
by storm.

Others watch with
envious eyes,
smirking when
she becomes conflicted
and starts to
disfigure herself.
To their amazement,
she rises once again
(lips ruby red this time).

As years pass,
her wisdom grows,
and she becomes a woman.
Though rebellion and revolution
shall never be left behind,
peace comes twice over, for
a steep price
(now a dark, solemn crimson).

Determined to never fade
nor pass the torch,
she clings to youth and
obsess over beauty.
Now false and hollow,
she dabbles in the blood
spilt by martyrs and saints,
willing to paint herself red.