The thorns are thick for so small a prize

Though worthless, my heart is precious in your eyes

In reality, it is coal that you will find

Foolish you are, choosing me over diamonds in the mine.

Foolish are you to exalt me

Gilded chunks of ash and rubbish

Worth not much more than a handful of stones

How quickly you’ve made yourself

An imitation home

Foolish is the girl

Who looks upon me and grins

Spoiled by the brimstone that pools from open skin

I myself am the ruiner, the ruined, the used

The giver, the taker, my life I have abused

Covering my ash in gold once again

My deception will ruin 

The gold begins to chip


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