You paint your face in colors, assuming that if you hide pieces of yourself, it will be easier for a boy to love you, but he won't be stealing your heart by loving you,
he will only take from you until you are whole again

You come from a mother carrying camouflaged skin, but she has not prepared her blood in the slightest for the war that is raging inside of herself

There will be days when your heart will abandon you,
times when you will bleed for a boy whose favorite color is red,
moments when your heartbeat will not be enough,
but you will have to use it as a personal ticking bomb sent to you by God

You paint your face in colors, assuming that men will want to use their hands as cages for your heart,
when they only imagine using their hands to finger your *******,

but your father always told you to never trust a soldier with your weaponry,
tell me, why have you given him your heart?

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