Black Market
Look at your product
of latent dysfunction.
Isn't she pretty?
She's traumatized, distorted
Her blessings aborted
She's the loose cannon
Messiah of rebellion
Being what she hates hates most,
a hellion
She screams heavier than metal
and elicits hate
as all of her hope emaciates...
She hears her own cracked melody
Where is her control.
Where is her control.
She's infected, she's defective
She's unsold.
Her mind is a broken home.
She lingers on the shelves of the black market.
