carnations; birth and faith
Tears dropped from her furious eye,
newborn, while the devil won,
but your message was thrown to defeat faith,
it isn't surprising, it's in your past, it's what you are made of,
might it be because my name, might it be your nature,
carnations loom her mourning,
While sun runs through your stem, she begs in her knees to have her own seeds returned,
and false pagans affirm to have a part of her stolen soul,
A spittle all over her face,
It doesn't matter her past, her present and future will forever remain the stains proclaimed in this very land,
it's an indiscretion to compare myself, I will never be able to understand her state, but isn't rare how carnations pricked us the same?

© marsea