The room around is opaque
But there is no Raven to be seen
Only the monstrosities that disfigure in the light.
A butterfly contorts into a moth and we are one in the same-
The whispering in the night seems to turn me inside out.
Lighting strikes
Because thunder
Isn't getting
The point
Across.
Goosebumps and bruises and scars.
This skin that needs to shed.
Like drug store perfume, it fades away
And before you know it, you're clean.
You're clean and you're ripe and you're pure.
And before you know it you're still sitting in the same corner
Begging yourself to cry wolf.
May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 12:24 AM UTC
The room around is opaque
But there is no Raven to be seen
Only the monstrosities that disfigure in the light.
A butterfly contorts into a moth and we are one in the same-
The whispering in the night seems to turn me inside out.
Lighting strikes
Because thunder
Isn't getting
The point
Across.
Goosebumps and bruises and scars.
This skin that needs to shed.
Like drug store perfume, it fades away
And before you know it, you're clean.
You're clean and you're ripe and you're pure.
And before you know it you're still sitting in the same corner
Begging yourself to cry wolf.
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