Rearview Woman

In your shell of industry, I see you
Fresh scars of sadness running down your face
Despite your blight, the sun makes you gorgeous
While the crimson ray holds us, I wonder
Obvious that pain has you… but why?
Torment, maybe, from a lover?
Cruelty twisting your heart
Or, perhaps, a sickness?
How I want to know…
But it’s too late
Red turns green
We part
Lost

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