Branded
I thought about how empty it was in my kind of dimension
and fingered the hem of my virgin white nightgown
the mirrors face cast a cold glow from the streetlight
and my life flame paled to compare
my soul felt like it was drowning in the carpet
and my veins showed though my skin with unease
thunder below like memories
in my own vain mind
and the wing howled in painful distortion
my writing feels like a secons level
and I feel muself to be only literal
as opposed to the figurative I was just a moment ago...
but moments between moments can seem so far
when you've got no place to run
and skyblue knocking on your door...
Just say quiet on the floor shh
I cover myself up with faux simplicity
and guesses that I'll live to see thirty summers