- Age / Gender:
- 32, Female
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Art. Music. Or. Bust.
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Level 1 Artist
Ranked as Civilian
Coming in second is the same as coming in last
It hurts just as much, but it still makes me laugh
At how quickly the twine lines of my sanity burn away
To take me into the ink of my thoughts, my lips betray
A smile that barely hides the voices of my mind mingling
With the twisted guts inside, and it leaves me tingling.
Is there no way to say exactly how deep I cut the pain?
Spelling it out gets me nowhere, and know where I've been bent?
Drifting in the brine of a sorrow like tar, simply spent
Too tired to swim, my back stroke is pretty weak
Since my arms are broken, torn at the seams
Here, have my heart, take these dreams
I'm tired of waking to a silent scream choking me
If the day is gray it fits like a glove
Why paint it the colors of love?
Lately, my feet are finding their way
No longer tripping over the bliss of a new day
This is how I know, this is how the wind steals my breath
And carries my soul to the stars, if we digress
Can we go back to passion as hot as the Sun?
Rake my flesh until bones expose, written in blood.
Coming in last still counts for something
Could it be my imagination is a sentry?
Guarding me from reality?
This was supposed to be me taking the lead
But once the barbs catch they never come free
Gouging my palms on the thorns of my reliable complacency
I never knew suffering could be quite so tempting
Coming in second is how I remind myself to keep it pinned
It's why no one is every truly within
Coming in second is the only way to win