i am comforted in my own. just like ice melts, only not so
warm, just warm     enough. lay like a leaf in the sun, holding up lace so that
when i lower it the pattern will be burned into my cheeks, intricate enough
so that people will have to lean inclose
to see

i am ever-changing, like forever-ever, like no mona lisa because
'bullets pass through me and I keep moooooooving'
only the bullets never reach me - i know i'm dreaming when i'm
dreaming.