It was about a short thing once said to me, secrets shouldn't be told sometimes.
She let me in on a little thing that turned massive.
A plastic plethora of pudophyicie, a vain vindictive soul of a vulture.
Wrapped up in a tiny, dandy, candy wrapper.
Only first to taste its sweet creamy joy, then come to find out its got a rancid, raccoon, scat center.
Enjoy fine sweets, with every tooth takes, enjoy much of the thing she told me.Dieing in the suns rays, enjoying the worlds glory's.
We walked in paths paved by the pounding of our power. Pushed all a side, took the enigma of life's monastery, and made milk.
It was high upon high, living to die. Taking natures bends, not asking why.
As a knight and his lost princess track mountains and deserts to be hole, her word was true bull.
Truth, Half is half, a cretin piece required, a puzzle, a key, formidable to say, kindred spirit or sole mate.
Two and two make four, but we sought one.
A petals pity, as wilting wrinkles relay decay. Something said, but not meant?
Its a fickle falsely flowing me. Why as why, when you know we all die.
As death comes birth, breading is worse for pain and lust.
Romance makes me dance and passion is my mission, but as a human breading is bleeding.
For as pretty girls with short things to say, I hear no more.
My ears have ben bludgeoned with butterflies.
My eyes sown shut from fingers of mine.
All I hear is the blossom of a note, not heard yet.
Just a small hum, a vibrant vibration, a internal shockwave.
Oh, tsunami, earthquake, a note from a violin, please resinate in my ears, please poor down on my head. For your presents is timing me here. An ass's anticipation, please rain down. None of it matters though. Even if so, my umbrella is up from pain.
The note will only be blossom never feeling its decay. Its sound isn't heard, for my ears bleeding, and at my feet lay a plie of dead butterflies.