Embers
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I am God's gift, but why would he bless me with
Such wit without a conscience equipped
I'm addicted to the way I feel when I think of you
There's too much green to feel blue
340
تريكت تشكن تندر لان داتنسه عليه صار كم يوم جان يطلع الغده دولمة و هسه حطرش منصدك بطني دتموتني
340
Pouring out her chest, her sweet flowers lay wilted
She feels their pedals sink between her fingers, leaving nothing but dried carbon
"Grab these lavender thorns and shove them into my wrists
Maybe I'll feel something different" she yells
Her liquid runs across her skin, starving for more
She continues to slam those twisted stems into her arms
"Oh god, oh god, oh god, " she repeats internally
Wondering how long these newfound scars will take to blossom
Little does she know, cutting through her own skin will find no flowers
Yet she continues to wail
