
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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