Here is a girl who's
Galaxy mind and twisted thoughts
Are too BIG for her skull,
(They're too busy shovingAgainsteachother
To make sense)
So, she said, she'll fly away,
S t r e e e t c h out to feel the world
In her hands but~
She can't pull her fingers away
from the pulse, always ticking
Tick
Tock
Tick tock, tick tock ...
.... And stop.
She's a grenade; coiled spring tight
While her briar heart beats hard
Against a cold white cage;
Made of Brittle bones
and her small, cluttered frame
Under gossamer wings
That will die with the sun
She says she can feel them,
The wings on her back
That she was never given