With a clamouring clash and a thickening thud,
She found herself among a pool of her own blood,
Stunned, bummed, churing and yearning.
Raging of insides are constantly burning,
She glanced around; seeing nobody to be found,
And wanting no one to see,
her bruised up face, And her washed out state,
faded further than transparency,
She had fallen hard, she knew it to be so,
But she'd rather it be her than any other bro,
She had done it before, and would do it again,
She welcomes the injury, she knows how to fend.
for herself, for another, for a child, or that brother.
for any other she would aid,
But no matter the amount, she would never pout,
and despises being paid,
She prefers the martyrdom, the giving of self,
the exposing of insides, and destruction of health,
She likes drawing herself together, feeling the drip,
Knowing it won't be so long before the next slip.
Pulling the pooling, the constant remorse,
knowing this path, remembering the course,
the sliding between fingers, the inability to grasp
the past, the present, the future! at last.
She's here, lil queer, maybe broken, strange token,
Of force, of course, she's mending, and bending.
stitching it up, knowing "sup?". nearly there, fighting bear,
of bear hands and grizzly fates, rolled back eyes and hazardous states,
teetering on the edge of her own destruction
poking the polars, running into corners and walls, rampaging so hard, there was nothing but falls
She was the kOS of her own rambunction.
you can't cup the water with open hands, and you can't travel to distant lands,
unless you make the right plan
she tries anyhow, to go with the flow, and to keep the teeter in toe,
but she can't even consistently tan.
This falling apart, the ripping at start, knows no way but down.
But she knows it so, the push and the pull, she's still on the ground.
