Blue agate in my soul
Crushed to pieces
By jaded crows
They gain strength by wrecking me
My body
Made of feathers of the softest, most delicate kind
My memory
Made of fire that would burn a thousand men
But still I am weak
But still I cannot cry
And yet I can speak
Be still you wicked lie
Mar 18, 2020
Mar 18, 2020 at 9:05 PM UTC
Blue agate in my soul
Crushed to pieces
By jaded crows
They gain strength by wrecking me
My body
Made of feathers of the softest, most delicate kind
My memory
Made of fire that would burn a thousand men
But still I am weak
But still I cannot cry
And yet I can speak
Be still you wicked lie
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