Your demise looks
as if it were a pregnant woman on medication.
Yet, your eyes,
Deep and brown,
Conjure a despair of sensation;
Baring little annotation.
One,
Maybe more;
Your looks of evil sanitation,
burned with the crescent of wealth and admiration,
Despite the obvious constellation;
Of the stars and the night
all of which dress around you,
But this night devours your life.
The quest once bared
offers little notion,
as you arise from a darkened nation.
Spoiler
This is the 3rd piece of poetry I've done, so give me all your thoughts and improvements.
