this is about me.
Scared of my own shadow.
Guilt for silent times when music could've filled my every crevice.
Pretty girls with no pores upon their pretty faces, but porcelain cream.
Evidence of a being no mortal has only heard, but never seen.
It was truly an echo of yourself, a want, a desire...
So loud. so repetitive. so rambling.
but so clear.
I can't think of anything but an ugly metaphor to put here...
- To explain my generic emotions that every girl has felt.
I am my best friend.
I am my worst enemy.
And you're just not helping here.
I'm not afraid of you.
You made me the way I am.
So if anyone is to complain here; it's me.
We're related but we cannot relate. Let's face it:
What you say is highly over-rated.
What I think is over-complicated.
But it doesn't matter.
No, no one cares.
People listen but they cannot comprehend the SIMPLE English Dictionary spread out in SUCH strange, cursive coding...
So I'll continue dancing ritually, in hopes - a miracle.
In hopes - they see - I cannot be better.
I am human.
Watch me fall.
Watch me trip over your strings, your catches, your broken promises.
Please...enjoy the show.
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