It starts with a question,
Simple and plain...
and to which sin do I have to blame,
for being forced into tendering...
Are you a thorn or are you not?
You sting my stress away with just a touch...
Oh fluffy, whitey pillow!
when night do comes...
Summer always spelled out secrets;
I almost suffocated, convinced that I must...
It all starts when they say “It’s a girl”
They give you pink, give you glitter...
RED
carmine sky swallows the canary sun...
I am quite capable
of bleeding on my own...
I still don't know
who you are or if you are...
I fell hard as lightning striking
through cottonfields, fighting like...
I've always had a fascination with fire.
Even a simple strike of a match...
“when I was a kid
I used to play in the garden...