Atop my head sits a pretty bow
one that mirrors life.
It is an adorable black bow that easily hides whats inside.
All over this bow reside white dots
perfect for concealing lies.
It's fragile lace structure
is used to fill that empty space within your heart.
Worn and riged,
it has never been torn apart.

This bower never ceases to amaze,
the way it can bend and change.
The spots of luck it proudly yeilded
have been greeidly consumed.

Idiocy lurks within the black lace
hidden among the fear.
Faded pink stans of love and joy are scatterd
all about my bow's depression.

Between the bindings waits humour
challenged by the weavings of pain
barely able to exist
living a live in vain.

Atop my head sits a pretty bow
one that mirrors life.
Worn and riged,
it has never been torn apart.
 
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