my skin melts under the rising sun
I begin to wonder why I even came
every day I begin to wonder why I haven't run
but the words I write on my skin don't feel the same
I begin to fill me up to the brim
I fill till I can no longer pinatrate my skin
all of these words allthow so well thought start to make my color fade so dim
and the devil in my face will grin
we came up with the thoughts in our brane
the thoughts I think put me to shame
but the colors I paint make me seem so sane
now nothing in my life will be the same
I write my own life on my own bland skin
but people seem to only see intricate words
untill all of my skin becomes thin
now I cut eatch part into thirds
they lift me up but I see through and sink deeper
the intricate desines I write have purpose but on my flesh seem so dense
and now I sit and cry like a willow the weeper
you all gamble with the words against me
and blow them up on the movie screens
but none of you really have convinced me
what does all of this mean
the cards you play take my skin to pieces
you tear me apart
untill you see all of the creases
so why not just restart
Naomi~wingedfeature
D