A Scarlet Frame

I often never wondered

Of who I would become.

I left it up to fate

And life

And God to sum it up.

But here I am,

This being.

A Scarlet, sketchy frame.

A faceless soul of

Faced up Lies,

And heartache in-between

And my body is lean and meager;

My mind? A fragile thing.

I coaxed it into

An angstful tune;

Of which? I'll never sing.