My armor is made of sunny smiles,
The smell of peonies,
And the breeze off of Lake Michigan.
It is made of guitar strings,
Of midnight kisses,
And snowflakes that fall gently on windowsills,
My skin is made of lemon juice,
Prickly burrs,
And tree roots.
It is made of razor blades,
Suspicious stares,
And window shades.
My soul is a tempest,
An angry sea that swallows all
Who have the gall to brave it.
It is a hurricane with a human eye,
Incomprehensible and strange.
It is the wind that
Rips the sails from vessels,
That no God or man can tame.
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 2:44 AM UTC
My armor is made of sunny smiles,
The smell of peonies,
And the breeze off of Lake Michigan.
It is made of guitar strings,
Of midnight kisses,
And snowflakes that fall gently on windowsills,
My skin is made of lemon juice,
Prickly burrs,
And tree roots.
It is made of razor blades,
Suspicious stares,
And window shades.
My soul is a tempest,
An angry sea that swallows all
Who have the gall to brave it.
It is a hurricane with a human eye,
Incomprehensible and strange.
It is the wind that
Rips the sails from vessels,
That no God or man can tame.
