The old and new brown

   And here I am, looking at your bones. Not white bones, neither rotten bones, no. Your bones, are new and old bones, not white, but brown, cut and beautiful bones.
   And looking at it, I think what you have been before. All your beauty, all your splendor, all your glory, dead. All dead. And all this just for use your bones, like adornment.
   Because now... Now I look for you, and I see nothing. No more green, no more red, no more yellow, just the old and ancient brown.
   They killed you, they hurt you, they cut you, and now rest just brown, for more one collection.