inner chaosshe is a sea of china green tea that holds crumpled paper balls and thoughts like buoys that floatinner chaos
in and out, in and out, rocking her to sleep at night.
sugary dreams, pink and ink-tinged, fragmented, and fleeting dance through her subconscious, equivalent to naught, but the capacity of her imagination.
ideas manufactured in
the hypocrite factory, second-hand morals crammed into crooked drawers and creaking floor-boards, sticky sweet love letters under the door cracks.
nothing less, nothing more
my little victimoh you poor little victim,my little victim
always alone, so tortured, so abused. shall I kiss ground upon which you walk? lick your razor-blade battle wounds for you?
tear out my wings so that i too,
may never fly?
my dear,
you feign innocence so perfectly. you’re oh so lovely, pretty and flawless.
oh you poor little victim, perhaps I should just destroy those who try to save you, so as not to
disrupt your perfect little tragedy.
my dear, you play your part
so excellently.
--
Sminch --
I only see a better world built upon the ashes of this one.
Welcome to deviantArt also.
--
Liliputian; the most ironic word in the English language.
thanks
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