Has your fashion Run out of place? Your eyes just hang there Like the coats within your wardrobe. Your body is a glimpse of your decrepit self, By your glance Into a fractured mirror. I can't give love To a one Loathsome, in the flesh, By her eyes Deathly, upon her demise. Scorn your age, Like the sun never wanted you, For it never would see you. You are as the no one loved, Mocked by desires, To be nothing more, to everything less. Build your field, Never your mountains. Give your shield, To hang your thorns. The moon grows colder, While you stand there, Giving your irises something to imagine Could never be eternal.