You look
Just like the tiles
Lining
Lining the walls
Off white
Ten layers down
And slowly
Dying on top
Pure by
Your own design
So polished
Your surface veneer
Still you
Don't get to decide
Behind that
The stains that you wear
Rows of
Constellations
The colour
Of your Bloodshot eyes
I could
Wrap you around
My neck
Just like a noose
Hold on
Just a second
That's just
Your reflection