My Internal Electric Scribe…
The inner linings of my core,
blown to bits and then somehow peiced together by time,
And several band-aids,
There’s never a fault to be given,
The thought is just to large,
I’m a bright star with more edges,
then I should have,
print off a copy and maybe,
just maybe,
they’ll sell for a thousand currencies,
I try stuffing my words like pillows,
fighting for something important to say,
now, if there were a non-physical entity for preteen girls,
Beleive me, I’d be screwed over,
Still hanging onto the phone,
Hours and hours,
owning myself and everything else,
time passing,
key-lime ice cream melting over the side,
going,
going,
going,
insaneinsaneinsane!
[Note: I know, I know, it's awkward and cliche, and you probably don't get it.. You don't have to tell me twice..]
~Marie