DecomPoseur

she's a painting outta focus with no good
sense of intention she's authentic
she's a model of disaster with a heart of revolution
she's so innocent, but guilty's her plea
everybody wants to save her from herself,
they really want to save themselves

she's got the grace of a tourist,
with the charm of demolition
she's a poem without a meter or rhyme
a random design
of a flower like a rose no one really knows
she's a master piece deserving restoration
or condemnation time will tell us
if she's a lifer or a decomposuer
she is rose no one really knows