Why must we
always be breaking?
My limbs
flail about, not understanding
My world
spins around on an axis
There is no
reality or illusion
Not for
long, in my song
My heart is
a music box
I turn, ever
turn
My
appearance shifts in moments
Myriads of
expressions blooming
I break and
I break and I die
Death, yes I
think it so sweet
It fills me
with pain and desire
For what I
have left and what arises
Blending
hues to paint anew
New limbs to
stretch into
On my axis I
observe
How my
expressions tend to blur
My body is
in such disarray, sometimes
From the
pain, and the dying
But I’m
quite fine really, turning
This has
been my life, always
Chiseling at
my frame, the winds
Of my
spinning ever changing the
View point
I’m taking
I love
dancing
I love making
New
creations
For my
Presentation
I love
breaking
Into myself
And finding
Lovely
things
Imaginings
Dresses and
nail polish
Bracelets
and hairstyles
Markings and
colors
The Angst
and the horror
Love and
devotion
Fear and
control
Beauty and
ugliness
Perfection
and flaw
Lovely
things
All such
lovely things
Coming and
going round
The axis of
me
I am the
spinning
I am not
“myself”
I am the
axis
The
perception of
things that
come and go
Of the world
that turns and flows
Do you like
me? I would like you to
Does it matter?
Really, no
I like
myself, and I like the world
It is all
such an interesting show
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