pink-hater

damned pink-colored ink
a shade of my enemy
her lips of lies
and cheeks of Judas' kiss
no one can be trusted
they are just a bunch of
wilted pink roses
offered to Charon.

a priceless Prada in a shade
of the lightest red
carried by hand, by shoulder
or by the back
guarded by thief walking in
the brightest streets of the city
really, you can't trust no one.

pink, the desire for love
never forgets the desire for lust
a cherry-scented latex
for a cherry pop
ripped in the middle of your core
and after 270 days,
hear the cry of the sweetest
fruit from a cherry popped
still, you can't trust someone who
has taken you for granted.

Pink.
a stained purity of white
with the blood of red
from the innocent father
a mourning fatherless family
the loss of the one who was
wrapped in a white blanket
drenched in his reddest
erythrocytes.
a powerless individual
losed his fight for his right
now you can't really trust
those who promised you life
of a better living

there is no real happiness
no real love,
nothing's real in
pink.