The torn scapula of my hopefulness always lays
further than my feet can ever kiss.

Destroyed eye lids only know skies that beg to become fluid once again.

Pathetic limbs, slipping off the sides of a dress of those whom I refused to dance with.
Cry early in the shallow halls of nowhere, fear not the song played alongside colored frowns.

The torn scapula of his hopefulness
verily lays dormant further than his feet can ever kiss.
Destroyed eye lids only know skies that beg to become fluid once again.
Pathetic limbs, slipping off the sides of a dress of those whom he declines the ballroom dance.
Cry early in the shallow halls of nowhere!
fear not the songs played alongside drunk banshee’s bathed in
a mother’s skin.
I need a man that believes in me the same way the mirror tells me alive

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