Our Turn

Cut the flesh upwards,

Bend your bone cot.

Be aware of everything,

Soul scissors don’t stop...

Our oceans stay so iron sweet,

And this will never change...

Our corrector eye lens cameras stay in range, far...

Our mystery.

Messy makeup burnt.

We’re not perfect but we are what we learn...

And this is where we start, from the pain beauty curves and carves a new art...

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