Peter once asked: which things make you feel something?
And the truth is I’ve been play pretending since quarentine When I started to believe in a glamourous life
Lillies of the valley, meditation Behind sunrise filters there’s someone unhappy, black and white With a dull and wrinkled skin, she hates the sun She always thought about her vocations House decorator but she never could do it right Just like singing, or dancing or even flerting but not like holding a gun
She lives in a small and warm house Which she always wished the old roof to cave in No garden, no breath, but death Never met the green but fell in love with violence And by that I mean - her mother talks about the path
God, unfriend of mine Please, let me d-die
I’ve been play pretending since quarentine When I started to believe in a fitness life
*** with cellulite but not like Jupiter Curves all over the body but not like the ones on the road There is hair, but not long enough and strong enough like Rapunzel's - for her men to entrust her with the climb There are big arms, but not like Anette's because no one would stay in it for that long There’s no art on her
November 1st 2021, she noticed that she was thinner but she couldn't wear her high waisted pants like she always wanted Her mother would **** her if she did So she prayed one more time
God, unfriend of mine Please, let me d-die
I’ve been play pretending since quarentine When I started to hide in the night life
‘Don’t trust the moon, she’s always changing’
Peter once asked: which things make you feel something?