She romanticize the orchestra of her muffled cries, caught her canvases
bruised with purple and red,
Her bare chest was beautifully wounded by a serrated cage, arranging her disorganized open heart.

Her heart is malleable from tragic delights, she ripped herself open, willing to give it whole.

Will you take it all and leave it as it is?
Does it oblige you to wrap your arms around me like a tightening noose?

And as she draw marks of red stains and carve on her skin, her limbs were perched perfectly, as you adore it with a painful stare.

And her hands were pure certainty, remained untouched.