Beauty is a Gentle Trophy

There once was a town,

Or well, a place

Where children danced and played games like people in another place.

They ran jumped and hide and laughed 

Well for some who were there. 

A glossy face

To cover disgrace 

Sometimes even with events

Sometimes leaves a bigger dent

I don’t need it

And neither should you

Because even with it

You’ll see right through 

Death is a purple cake,

It’s icing as smooth as a freshly painted wall,

Lucious as dreams 

It’s taste as skyscrapers are tall

Death is a dog,

Fur like a cloud,