“What’s with the nail polish? All black makes you look Sick… You’re cute, try pink Let my actions My opinions Most mightier than though Push you to my idea Of Full Potential Black hair, Black eyes Pale skin, Rosy cheeks Need be dressed only in Dust of Cotton Candies You could be so Pretty If you just tried Trust my uneducated Non-artistic of any kind
Expertise in pigment palettes Dull the crimson Lighten the red Passion is only acceptable In the form of magenta You can be pastel if you want But pink is only hot on me
Don’t try to be what you aren’t You can’t It wasn’t meant to be, From the minute you were born. What’s in a name? Your entire existence Every first impression,
Packaged context, and last judgment Whether you can live with it Or not. Don’t Posies follow roses And rings all around Ashes to Ashes Dust to Dust Cities crumble eventually But legacies are forever What’s it short for? Rosita? Rosalind? Rosemary? Close but not quite…..
…..Latina? Rose …… Petra Unique, immortal, so far 7th wonder of the world since 2007 Quite a color
On that ancient Nabataean city A Namesake to literally say, “Pink Rock” In case anyone asks Such a Perfect Setup For a darling baby girl Small, Petite Black hair, Black eyes Tiny, weak Pale skin, rosy cheeks Anxious Furious Wilted petals, twisted thorns Names don’t predict futures Names are neutral labels But they carry far more weight
than estimated at birth I was forged with flowers To fit this sweet feminine mold And I just can’t,
not even won’t but shan’t This floral crown has never fit Even as I sit upon this throne The walls of the kingdom
I’ve repainted Yet I cannot stand
next to the royals before me Their rose crest hangs too high and too distant. They could never imagine
How many innocent pink buds, Have bloomed too bloody