scars are lipstick you can't rub off
carved and gifted, we can't love down
the world, the dove, the gun, the crown.

the claw that teases blood to the surface
the maw that pines for your innocence,
it cannot, will not, eat you up.

everything is so full of fruit,
which is why the world is full of ****.
get over it,
sang the roughened root.
the foliage sang
such softer songs.