Scratch the surface you won't get white crumbs,
but red paint still not dried up..
Touch the lips, your fingers won't be cold,
But warm with pulses flowing my woe..
Knock my forehead, you expect sonorous sound,
You would get nothing but a black and blue..
Sharpen your nails, take a swing,
Can you hear my agonizing screams..
Would you touch me with your warm kiss,
And see if,
your heat melts, the mask within...
