Rotten to the core,
From the painted scarlet nails,
To the pretty blue velvet eyes,
Leading a vulgar existence,
Where every compliment,
Is enough to get her into bed.
Caring only about the loves,
She never truly knew,
Who called her darling once,
She lives in a world of her own,
Selfishly drinking herself to death,
Convinced she’s fine.
Her life is a Joy Division song,
Sad and mesmerizing,
With her pain at the centre of it,
Incapable of laughing it off,
She lets the tears rush forth,
Her mind a web of memories.
No one knows the real her,
If they did they would keep away,
From the obsessed and possessed creature,
Who will poison those who love her,
Those who she can never love back,
Yearning only for the momentary ecstasy,
Of being called beautiful and mysterious.