Many months had gone by, yet we still remained unnoticed,

How I wish to have become a beauty, Aphrodite would’ve been my name,

Far too aware of my flaws, yet I ought to be plastered on a wall to be forever forcused on,

The thin linear string told me otherwise, will I become part an infinity? Dried up, broken and a teared sculpture in the Hall of Fame?

I was a woman…or a man….or an entity far away,

Red was a colour I liked and admired, sought to change the behaviour and alter me into being brave,

Long ago….Mid of August….on a Sunday afternoon….while the rain covered the horizen like a bird in a cage…I saw my fate the moment the light hit the ground…and onto me….

Nobody cared, I was a red head afterall….they saw me as a witch,

Hurray was echoing the small town, they felt many glory,

This is my story…it is,

Even the dead tell stories.