she totally fadedthe sun is rising,and my aurora is passing.peace is fifteen cast stones, skippingacross the crevaces of my chest andbouncing off of my dry bones; and idon't watching my galaxy, and, i don'tlike watching myself break against the floor.
reallyyou are a busted, half flickering light bulb.your wires are crossed, your glass is dustywith neglect, and your switch is on theverge of falling off.you're pretty but most certainly notattractive - not until you prove that yourlight is worth dancing around.stop making moths hesitate,it's not like you flicker forever.