Friday, February 6, 2015

Destruction form of creation

The lips, the smell, of her bearded tattoo
The chaos that envelops her body, it dies
The words that vibrate her truth through the storm
Her words, of value were born in Her heart.
Image of the gypsy with satin white skin
And eyes that wonder about empires of gold
The city stood still, before her morning gaze 
The city was sold, to the tourists walking around
In their gypsy dresses
No authenticity to find but inside
Her red flag of ownership

The coiled snake in her braided hair
The cold heart, knows how to cool
Her gypsy fury. The locked in actress
Of her soul, would snap the chains of memory
And break loose

Break loose

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