atlas at last – flora lyrics
i don’t know how i started separating from my body of morals and opinions, injustices and justices. there’s a valley between myself – rose petals on a bed of nails – that i toss and turn and get the best sleep of my life on. and i wake up anemic and happy, bl–dy, sticky. stop saying i’m so delicate. you pluck my kisses like violins being played right by my ear drums. it’s a loss of gentleness; you claim to have left marching in the rain. “i can handle this. you’ve prepared me for wars; you can see it in my loss. i wear it on my words.” too confused to figure out and lost beyond finding myself, we used to hold hands now we’re both left with lefts and n0body’s right. i am not a seamstress, a ventriloquist’s ventriloquist we’re like the shutout offspring of therapists. my skin is paper i can see the sky through my eyelids. “you’re ugly,” says the queen of me, something about my personality
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