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There is the smile I carried alone for so long. But yours is the smile I coerced from the steps. Leather green *** slave And on soother days I perform future's work. God's deeds. Breathing heavy hoping yet we are breathing light in dreams A lullaby of sorts That might make things a bit clear and if it doesn't Well then that this is okay Face staying warm and risk growing from my ribs I wonder how colors taste to the heroes I've burned Idols Heroes and idols. Stand in my little monster Is this the sequence of regret and tragedy Or is it now as someone said once Sobering I call it these days What is it? The feeling of not composing the self only involving your belch in the chorus On the bus line I grew. Temporal Temporal Temporal And I cry Long ago required my mind to separate tears from my eyes A dry hobble and a glance over my shoulder My hair perfect My lines hidden a verse 1 space over That's perfect I say Reciting the image line of bloated pug carcasses and skin I've made in case of nights like tonight End quote I want out I want out with a bang My blood grew Flooded the hallway and now my thoughts of suicide dissolve Father is it me now? Am I that sound the crunch of glass meeting wood on elegant wood flooring? Or father... Am I the cherry asked for but left undigested Alone in a trashcan And then again alone in a dumpster And simply waiting for a kitten to find me And fill it's own belly And finding in the morning I've Teman not touched Cowering under sunshine Discovering a cowl and cane I discovered locomotion My reach far exceeding its grasp Living with this world but very unsure if I belong to this blur Do I belong to this blur? Am I alone in this void? Will I die ***** Watch a piece of myself die.
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Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 6:45 AM UTC
On Sundays I *****
There is the smile I carried alone for so long. But yours is the smile I coerced from the steps. Leather green *** slave And on soother days I perform future's work. God's deeds. Breathing heavy hoping yet we are breathing light in dreams A lullaby of sorts That might make things a bit clear and if it doesn't Well then that this is okay Face staying warm and risk growing from my ribs I wonder how colors taste to the heroes I've burned Idols Heroes and idols. Stand in my little monster Is this the sequence of regret and tragedy Or is it now as someone said once Sobering I call it these days What is it? The feeling of not composing the self only involving your belch in the chorus On the bus line I grew. Temporal Temporal Temporal And I cry Long ago required my mind to separate tears from my eyes A dry hobble and a glance over my shoulder My hair perfect My lines hidden a verse 1 space over That's perfect I say Reciting the image line of bloated pug carcasses and skin I've made in case of nights like tonight End quote I want out I want out with a bang My blood grew Flooded the hallway and now my thoughts of suicide dissolve Father is it me now? Am I that sound the crunch of glass meeting wood on elegant wood flooring? Or father... Am I the cherry asked for but left undigested Alone in a trashcan And then again alone in a dumpster And simply waiting for a kitten to find me And fill it's own belly And finding in the morning I've Teman not touched Cowering under sunshine Discovering a cowl and cane I discovered locomotion My reach far exceeding its grasp Living with this world but very unsure if I belong to this blur Do I belong to this blur? Am I alone in this void? Will I die ***** Watch a piece of myself die.
Tragedy
#tragedy
wordsalwayshurt
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wordsalwayshurt
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 6:45 AM UTC
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