I can see the fragrant colors left like raindrops
with the motion of her step,
and my heart is softly hoping
in this moment that the shades will pool again.
Into my vessel flows the answers formed in adaptation.
I am weightless but for gravity,
and I fly to spite my broken wings;
the circumstances provide the sensation of flow
underneath my open eyes as the world floods in...
We are made of tiny little pieces and built to reflect.
I fucking whip my hair around my fucking smile
and vandalize the expectations long lost in expertise...
I finally get why the time happened in this order,
and the clouds part on the idea that I was born for this.
Who could have thought that my total defeat
would lose me the castle and steal me the kingdom?