Your mother did not give birth to a volcano like you just so you can erupt inside his heart soft of vanilla ice cream. You were not born to melt him from the inside out.
Don’t you let him make you any less important than you are, when he makes you his rose in his garden of girls, don’t settle to be only beautiful for him. You were not born to be pretty when you can choke him with your thorns.
You are deadly and dangerous. You are not a wedding boquet nor a daisy in the graveyard.
You are the Amazonas, and your tears are pure and clear like the Niagara Falls. You are wild and craving adventure and nothing is really sure about you like a bridge in the middle of an unforgettable jungle, those who fall in love with you, they might not be alive after you.
You are like a gorgeous mermaid that sings on top of her lungs, and gets the gentlemen following a beautiful voice unconciously like the starving dogs they are. They will keep on walking to your path to finally touch your pearl-like skin, but they will never be able to.
You hunt your own soul and let boys starve in caves, and they are howling; Come on baby, let me eat you naked. But you let the quicksand swallow their greedy hands.
Your mother did not give birth to fire just so you can light up his cigarette; if he does not want to stay, then open the door for him.
You are the only only one, and if he cuts you into two; let the beasts eat him alive.
A Volcano In Between Your Legs