A Toy Clothed Life

Every person is a toy of life,
It clothes us in whatever it likes. . .
Life is nothing but a cloth to wear,
Full of emotions and problems to bear. . .

The hat of destruction is above my head,
It pours down the tears I have shed
A dark ragged dress of loneliness embraces me,
Along with the shackles of insecurities that chain me!

A high-heeled boots that's heavy with burdens of spell;
To what I have as I rush alone in the steep road of hell!
I'm not that cold with these fiery gloves of anger;
That's covered with blood because of lies and slanders

What could be more? But the jewelry of thorns!
That rages my emotions as they pierce in any form
And the thing I always wear as long as I survive,
Is the mask if lies that proves I'm alive!

And surely, time will come that life will grow tired;
Of toying my life it'll fled to look for another to acquire
It will leave me alone, lifeless in a cold bed
And after I'm toyed, the next thing I know,
I'm DEAD!