037

Remember all those plans I made,
those things that seemed like me
remember me kicking up smoke and losing my senses
while you stayed awake to pray 

Remember all those dreams I had
technicolour tuned to something better, I
had them for a breath and lost
left an empty shell of me

Remember the times you believed in me
when you believed it came naturally
you trusted a phasing moon, but
I was making impact craters,
ubiquitous and reckless

Was it flattery when you told me that
I finally seemed like me? 
Or did you mean to say that 
you resent what you hadn’t seen?

Was it true when you told me
it would take a force of nature,
a humbling sort of circus act
to be loved when I’m this way?


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