It's not about a song

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ㅤㅤCall my attention your black hair, your black nails and your black eyes. She uses black makeup, with a black shoes and a black light.
ㅤㅤIn her white skin no one piercing or tattoo. It's more one fallen angel in the world again. Did she come true?
ㅤㅤTurn on the radio. It's some rock, some music like Heart-Shaped Box. I think there is some guy into her heart.
ㅤㅤIn her window some cigarettes and crumpled poems. She keeps using the same jeans and the same ideas. Maybe someday someone save her. Or not.
ㅤㅤShe lives in the darkness boulevard and don't ask me where is this. She wanna go so far. It's the same sharp poison running into her veins.. She just wants them stop to looking her thorns and note her red petals...
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Escrito em julho/2011.