I am mother nature
I am walking contradictions
In a vat of amniotic fluid
I am terms of endearment
I am stalking your afflictions
In the slums of embryonic movement
We were
A perfect start to a worthless end
Adumbrated tendencies
Of a vacillating dream
I am fleeing saviors
I am calling the bluff of fiction
In a city of dystopic blueprints
I am freeing future-tenses bound to bred addictions
In a haze of rats disguised students
We were
A perfect start to a worthless end
Adumbrated tendencies
Of a vacillating dream
We were
A perfect scar to a wound that sought no mend
Aggravated remedies of unwavering change
The rotting trunk of this absent mind
Vanishing consciousness stepping out of time
Your heart on a silver platter that your pop the blacksmith struck
As he did my blade
I built a fire rubbing two sticks together and thought you'd like to know
I sure could of used your flame
but burn out you would, just as you should
you must be so tired, so sore, rubbing two sticks together
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