☆ twisted truth ☆

roofs are white

maybe 

they used to be

red or green or blue

i cant trust 

my head to remember

and whenever it looks white

i feel like finding you

to hang up some flowers

or paint a pattern all through 

yet the paint wears of

rust and dust cover up

and i cannot see my intention 

and our patterns are silent

and its oh so silent

but i keep shut

hush

hush

hush