Nothing At All

Ritualistic mascara worshippings, prayers to the goddess of

Lipstick, crimson velvet lips framing a black hole;

Crushed diamond eyes and porcelain fangs, she's made of glass and

Full of empty odes to nothingness.

 

Walking down lanes of angst, the pathway to hell is paved

With cheap pills and razor blades,

Plastic and gold paint, your gods are chipped and cracked; they're

Shielded and veneered.

 

Hearts crushed to fine powders, spilled eye-shadow glitters on

A soul full of broken glass.

 

The End

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