Black sunflower pedals ooze from my mothers case,
Winds sweep me off my feet,
I can see a body un-moved
Suddenly I know what I want to be.
Sticky fingers smooth back flaky dead skin,
Printers hum and hard drives say they cant go back
R.O.S.S. likes me better,
When Im black and blue all over,
I feel better when called the optimistic failure.
Youve mistaken
Thats not a heart on my sleeve
I really want to say . . . its just another absentee.
But the mirrors eyes say please.
Saving a new lie for a sunny day
Theres a song being un-danced to.
I cant seem to find a thing .














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