I am a flower,

drowning beneath the full moon,

werewolves howling – night.


I'm an Easter egg,

painted so many colours

so that I turn black.


This is who I am,

this disfigured ruin of flesh,

waste of oxygen.

There is no meaning

to this lonely mask which I

wear upon my face.


I am lost, so lost.

So alone, because no one

likes black Easter eggs.