Clawing up grey walls,
stumbling on,
breaking nails off
paper and ink,
in silver screen
dreams
they haunt,
if you ignore
them cause you could be like them
if you ignore
the qualities you bring, inborn,
since you can't be
what you see,
what's your worth
to redeem?
I repeat:
Why are you alive when you could be dead?
Hide your hideousness, plebeian.
The silver I love, the love that I want, lies just behind
your, "Lovely Countenance".
