We may not be perfect
just as somebody else
we're the ones that know
that everything has an end.
Now I'm on my knees
praying to a God that I
don't think exists,
praying fot the mistaken butterflies
for the fragility of their wings.
Praying for them in this wild world
wondering if someone is praying for me.
I know the world is full
of sensations and feelings
so I'll let the roots fill me
and make an armor around my limbs.
I hope someone is praying
for the tree girl
the girl who is made of dust and pollen.
I hope they believe in me
because I know things
about the end of everything,
about the imperfections
and the end of the world,
the one that make me alive.
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 3:31 PM UTC
We may not be perfect
just as somebody else
we're the ones that know
that everything has an end.
Now I'm on my knees
praying to a God that I
don't think exists,
praying fot the mistaken butterflies
for the fragility of their wings.
Praying for them in this wild world
wondering if someone is praying for me.
I know the world is full
of sensations and feelings
so I'll let the roots fill me
and make an armor around my limbs.
I hope someone is praying
for the tree girl
the girl who is made of dust and pollen.
I hope they believe in me
because I know things
about the end of everything,
about the imperfections
and the end of the world,
the one that make me alive.
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