A flawless tone, a skin where shores seems to turn away
A layer of coal lingering in those emerald eyes
Midnight seems a shade light to describe the smooth flowing tresses
That even a yard might seem too less to forfeit
Long sleeves of jade, quartz and crimsons
Adored by the other gender
A perfect white radiant mask fawed by every Geisha
A virtue of pure elegance and prosperity
Bare feet showcased on flower beds
Bathed in rose petals, a merry so given
Seducing charms, so worn like neigh a duty
But an incore pleasure
Sun falls over the swampy liquid
A world turned over to a reddish fest
Turmoil’s perfectly unfolded
Rosy cheeks washed in tears
An art of doll glistened in broken pieces
Roses touched again but with a despise and an evergrowing fear
A drained soul lying in sheets of rubble
They were called, inborn Geisha was their Nick
A fortnight later withdrawn to
Reveal that they were like any other Gimmick
A life of utter honour, a flip could show another
Geisha in a life fartherest worn.
