The wings of a hurricane
the cry of a beast
concerns of a teenager
present at a feast
salt in fresh wounds
twigs in my cape
soaring through states
this is my escape
you might infest
your precious being
with all the sickness
you’ve been seeing
You might forget
the origin of your shape
you shake off reality
that is your escape
But the threads in my waistcoat
the apples in my crate
can not be forgotten
in this mental state
I spill the ideas
that society has taped
inside my thoughts
this is my escape
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 1:18 AM UTC
The wings of a hurricane
the cry of a beast
concerns of a teenager
present at a feast
salt in fresh wounds
twigs in my cape
soaring through states
this is my escape
you might infest
your precious being
with all the sickness
you’ve been seeing
You might forget
the origin of your shape
you shake off reality
that is your escape
But the threads in my waistcoat
the apples in my crate
can not be forgotten
in this mental state
I spill the ideas
that society has taped
inside my thoughts
this is my escape
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