At the Day

At the day she came to me and said she’s gone
I brought her a flower a color so bright
Her eyes were dark and filled with pity
Overwhelmed by my deed
Showing me her hands that once carried grand beauty
So empty they’re now
So empty they’re now
With the fall of the day, she sat down in a corner of the room
I heard her cry while reaching for the curtain that fought its way out
Scars are carved in the wooden floors she sits on They’re her final words and
fall themselves with vicious honesty
If only the one that sees me now
Could help my life in vain
My perfect little self
My perfect little self has this name… perfume… what’s left in me behind my dimming life…
Do I still have to hide
Do I still have to hide
Stealing matters' delight redeem my eyes from what I steal from life
From what I stand for in life
Must I really pray to be justified