You want to paint me, reconstruct me into one of your polished pedestals,
You desire to pin me up against your wall because I am a masterpiece,
Your hands slowly carving out my insides,
Painting me blue, green, red..
Planting beautiful flowers on the outside, but inside, like a sepulcher I feel dead,
You carve me out in wood, because you know I can be burnt,
I keep going through the same process,
Because it’s a lesson I haven’t learnt.