Distinct shades of hues — stood the same
as the pitch-black dusk
takes place into the steel cage,
it dooms her life — a tale of desolation.
A series of the cynic
seeking through — peeking eyes
hushed lips,
here comes despair.
Painted words
by her — another form of scars
wrestled and won
of newness
and fondness
of her secrets
and her sins — are like faces
from a covered haze.
Shredded reputation — stop!
“It will never settle.”
She will strike once again
her vulnerability — remains concealed:
it must preserve her.
“It will never end.”
As she sips from the twists of her
remorse,
though she buries
her facade.
“End her.”
Hailed by her,
while she seeks for
another shade of colors — thus lead her
of another yet
the flicker of the sun.
“It will work out, I believe so.”
cynical moments made in 3a.m.
