The child holds in their hand a stunning flower
Beautiful, exotic and rare
They pull the glowing flower apart in a colorful shower
The soft, velvety petals rip and tear
Fluttering slowly to the ground
The bright pieces stand out against the gloomy floor
No one can hear the flower's silent screeching sound
Of being ripped from the core
The wind blows the fading petals into the dark abyss
The child tosses the stem aside, and skips away in bliss

Hey ****
Are you small
Can you fit
Can you find a comb that fit
Can you last a long time

Hey ****
Can you satisfied me

I am the sea. I am the clouds.  And the dirt you carry within your dreams.  i am the pain.  i taste the blood.  Even though it’s 2 o’clock in the mourning and time to go home.  To the nothings and the peculiars of an emptiest life.
   i am the child who once painted lipstick
on a pet / the grimmest hour I stood alone /  i wanted to die / and now i’ve grown up without the hope of a warmer house I could call my life ||
i am the tea.  i am the cup.  Of no particular taste and i want to throw up / and it’s always the last one who calls me hon / you should get a better life. |||

:: 09-06-2018 ::