What's Wrong

Metamorphosis

She was a chest full of treasure

Made of fine grains and violet eyes

Her skin was smooth like velvet

And pale like cream

But the tides have turned in

And she's felt the water solidify

Her face is streaked with war

And her eyes are bitter blue

Wounds are reddened with lemon juice

And have left her quite sore

Her metamorphosis is quite opposite

Of many that came before her

But I'm quite alright with that

If only to see my lovely bride

Come home again, blood stained,

And fall back into my arms