Art thou in the mood

for the removal of thy hood?

Broken toes colouring the floor

in a pattern, dear me, a roar.

✖

Infinity is claimed as everlasting,

yet unpleasable behind thou masking.

A coup d'etat at thy tip,

as soon as thy blood; thy slip.

✖

A pas de deux with no agree

screaming 'why don't they believe me?'

Thy pain thou feel in thy wronging,

what is this too another; a longing?

✖

Art thou comfortable in thy feet?

or the tissue released in thou meet?

A previous warning passed unheeded

and behind crow eyes, the maltreated.

✖

As thy spiral into eternal bliss,

down below; the deep, the abyss.

Art thou aware of pain which they feel?

What is the fake, and what is the real?

✖

Blinding lights on top of the bow;

echoes inside; you reap what you sow.

Never again will beauty be as grace,

and that's when thy learn; your given place.