Baby, you are soda-pop and candid smiles,
Your voice as mellow as a crackling campfire,
Word choice spluttering across others canvas',
Everyone who is blind dresses you within the silk of your hair,
reminding, "you are off to do something great."

But you're still a work in progress,
"Hard to get", copper hearts snicker,
as they pour their spirit into shot glasses.

They're right. You are hard to get.
Never playing a game,
staying out of chambers that echo,
keeping the change from...

Baby, you are soda-pop and candid smiles,
Your voice as mellow as a crackling campfire,
Word choice spluttering across others canvas',
Everyone who is blind dresses you within the silk of your hair,
reminding, "you are off to do something great."

But you're still a work in progress,
"Hard to get", copper hearts snicker,
as they pour their spirit into shot glasses.

They're right. You are hard to get.
Never playing a game,
staying out of chambers that echo,
keeping the change from...

Baby, you are soda-pop and candid smiles,
Your voice seeping everyone in sun rays
Word choice spluttering across others canvas,
Everyone who is blind dresses you within the silk of your hair,
reminding, "you are off to do something great."

But you're still a work in progress,
"Hard to get", copper hearts snicker,
as they pour their spirit into shot glasses.

They're right. You are hard to get.
Never playing a game,
staying out of chambers that echo,
keeping the change from centuries...

I hid behind a tree,
You tread through,
You exactly knew.

Then your figures knotted in my hair
Arms encasing jolts of lightning,
I, knitted into your shoulder,
curled into,
You,
resting my tireless thoughts,
legs tangled.

Us,
behind a tree,
behind the world,
Kept within the space of your jumper,
on a ground made from snapped twigs, crushed leaves, and dirt.

My lips quivering like lighting,
Hurling, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm wasting your time, I'm sorry"
Tears drip into your hourglass, 
I'm...

As the air makes way for my hand,
guzzling time in a porcelain cup of caffeine,
Becoming the scent of late nights and stacked books,
Sighing, "I'm wasting my youth",
My counsellor sits across from me,
Clear sky eyes taking note of my porcelain time machine,
I explain I don't know my lefts and rights,
because it requires borrowing someone else's eyes
Yet North is that way,
The wrinkles in my hands are maps leading to somewhere,
or nowhere,
but...

As the air makes way for my hand,
guzzling time in a porcilne cup of caffeine,
Becoming the scent of late nights and stacked books,
Sighing,"I'm wasting my youth",
My counsellor sits across from me,
Clear sky eyes taking note of my time machine,
I explain I don't my lefts and rights,
because it requires borrowing somone elses eyes
Yet North is that way,
The wrinkles in my hands are maps leading to somewhere,
or nowhere,
but nowhere is still...

Everyone has been taught tricks,
To determine if they’re enough,
As our skill sets conclude our cliques.
We’re a series of boxes,
Waiting to be marked with ticks,
Or crosses.
 
Adjectives twist into labels,
We sculpt ‘good enough’,
But within the glass and clay lies another fable,
As long as we pass our sculptures won’t break.
 
If we quit the sculpture will become cracked,
Jagged lines spreading across until it’s like a smashed mirror,
All because a person...