deepundergroundpoetry.com
Untitled
Her life is not real
How can it? When her heart does not feel.
She suffocates her dreams and nurses her fears,
Plastic smiles while holding back her tears.
3 inch nails, brazilian hair, bleached skin and a butterfly tattoo,
6 inch heels, and pretends she doesnt care, doing so many things she
doesnt want to.
She doesnt want an intervention, she claims she can change as easy as one
two ...
Four? Three? Seven? She cant get it right as hard as she might try to.
Pictures on instagram, filters on all
Tweets about everything from bathing to a quick jog to the mall
On Tinder shes always available on call
Doesnt realise every guy after the other doesnt care about her at all.
More fluids flow from the ducts under her eyes
Cussing and swearing all under her despise
Calling people threatening her immediate demise
The grip society has on her is a dangerous and powerful device.
She is not hated once she had love,
Got sick of being treated right she said she'd had enough
Went all around the world in all its bars
Falling for any guy with any bars
In buses, planes abandoned buildings and once behind bars,
A whore on the network typically and she had all bars.
Will she ever heal, will she move beyond the scars?
Will she ever feel again, will anyone ever make her float away weightless
to Mars?
Or will the weight of her past pull her down to earth
Down to the depths of this wretched place
Is there hope for her
Is there any redemption from what she stands to face.
The world can only gaze
How can it? When her heart does not feel.
She suffocates her dreams and nurses her fears,
Plastic smiles while holding back her tears.
3 inch nails, brazilian hair, bleached skin and a butterfly tattoo,
6 inch heels, and pretends she doesnt care, doing so many things she
doesnt want to.
She doesnt want an intervention, she claims she can change as easy as one
two ...
Four? Three? Seven? She cant get it right as hard as she might try to.
Pictures on instagram, filters on all
Tweets about everything from bathing to a quick jog to the mall
On Tinder shes always available on call
Doesnt realise every guy after the other doesnt care about her at all.
More fluids flow from the ducts under her eyes
Cussing and swearing all under her despise
Calling people threatening her immediate demise
The grip society has on her is a dangerous and powerful device.
She is not hated once she had love,
Got sick of being treated right she said she'd had enough
Went all around the world in all its bars
Falling for any guy with any bars
In buses, planes abandoned buildings and once behind bars,
A whore on the network typically and she had all bars.
Will she ever heal, will she move beyond the scars?
Will she ever feel again, will anyone ever make her float away weightless
to Mars?
Or will the weight of her past pull her down to earth
Down to the depths of this wretched place
Is there hope for her
Is there any redemption from what she stands to face.
The world can only gaze
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