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Pariso
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Ozenfant
I am created and I am ember, carrying the knowledge of many generations. Brothers and sisters care not for my beauty, their vision tainted and they see right through me. Stifled by your indiscretions, my body to you is fragile and disgusting. All that I'm told from birth to death is hope for love is all that is left. Hatred becomes a blade that is hard to hear, it's touch is frozen by humanities fear. When I feel it's touch slice my throat I weep for the words I never wrote. 'My vessel seeps colour, a mix pallet dripped from many others'.
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