She's green.
She's red.
She's navy blue.

She's molten gold,
in the shape of you,

She comes alive,
and born anew,
she thinks herself a different hue.

She doesn't eat,
neither do you,
she's turning grey,
you're thinning through.

There is no end,
'till death's your friend.

Your stomach growls,
her bones do bend.

She's green.
She's red.
She's becoming you.

And yet you're still dying,
for a different you.