you
may expect observation or fawning or moderate self-depreciation. you may expect
a new sun a morning moon or talkative habits—where they scream for closure they
beg for acceptance or something warm, cozy, or pliable.
life
is beauty of sin of minds running through dungeons.
so
confused it’s so damning or insecure while most have damaged by negligence.
sweeter chimes or fluid vines while your world is unrealistic—those snake bites
those snake ears or destruction looking like normality.
so maladjusted
or like his reflection where a person pleads like losing; anything becomes deep
emotion, those leaves are winning, people are pleased to win amazements.
it
would never get clear it would be disfavored while it remains normal.
such
a shift in desolation so much a missed appraisal as creatures become feelers;
by dear tragedy by wretched curse, a man is stuck in between spaces. so much
she gave so righteous she lives with myriads running or churning or set aflame.
to look at me to feel so haughty with such disgrace at those heels.
framed
fevers or beloved daughters or too much to appease.
to
imagine sidewinders or such negativity while ignoring those roots: by poison
berries, by venom apples, by welts or wounds as never it leaves!
veils
or pastel grays such nightsong such abashment. a mere soul so devasted such
hurt or pain or shivers. by scars from strikes or infliction upon a green sky.
eons of dynasties or abuse without thought where most pain remains unspoken; to
need to exist; to need approval; with mother as a raw influence.
by
jungle into a nightmare or needing such an image while everything is so
perfect.
as
souls unwrapped as music unsung while screaming it echoes into silence. no one
is listening. no one is running to war. everyone is just asking for submission.
they
are pressed to care or imposed upon when giving while a person suffocating must
still obey.
