Poor child, I saw destiny painted on your skin and I wanted to scrape it right off of you.
It was evident as zebra stripes, or Amazonian rainforest frogs.
I’d love to hide this cruel world behind your facade of love and cherry blossoms.
Distract you with digital smoke and mirrors as you are yet to understand the tidal wave you are becoming.
Yet, fate, fate has marked you. Like baby viper markings or freshly painted war planes.
There’s an equation in this world that turns the softest people into the most industrial steel.
Yet, no one warns you that the chemical reaction taking place inside you is as violent as the Earth moving against itself.
Emotion. Emotionless. Emotion. Emotionless.