Mr irreverent became irrelevant
When hell was created for the heaven of it.
Santa Claus - • Was a lost cause when he stuffed my Mother's closet.
(My Dad) • - had plastic shells beneath his bed,
That pillow rustled beneath my head,
I wake with fairy death to my bedside,
The start of the end of the
uncultured times, thus I cried,
Bye bye.
My faith wasn’t mine.
A shipment of freedom to,
Dye the sky with a self-loved alibi.
You'll never hold the strings of truth,
Mr.Fleshed-out theory of everything
Where strings are fingers of the puppeteer,
which at this point is the matter's soul and therefore not dissimilar to matter itself, but,
No touchies?
A thought felt so truly that,
I'll rehearse my light to
See through the color of my eyes and
Cry again, cyan but then the
White lens of mine is carved by my
most natural sight.