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Waifs & Strays
автор:
Jeniferever
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I prune trees until they bleed, cut until I look well achieved, I braid a mask of leaves. Fight to find the balance in between the expectations and conditions, melt two blades into one. There is s a line, a mark where mist turns to clouds. When I find it I'll place a cut, split my spine in half There is a hook on which a rope to me is tied. When I find it I'll cut myself loose. For seven years in spheres of glass, aiming reflections into dust, we've emptied our trust. Will a kid dare to trust his visions if no one tells him that he can undrape jewels in his eyes. There is s a line, a mark where mist turns to clouds. When I find it I'll place a cut, split my spine in half There is a hook on which a rope to me is tied. When I find it I'll cut myself loose. We're cold, lone and deceitful to our kind, estranged wild dogs left behind, hunting reflections of the sun. I prune trees until they bleed, cut until I look well achieved, I braid a mask of leaves.
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