Because I can't keep fighting the world, I can't keep fighting myself, I can't keep trying when I should be doing, I should be doing.
In the forest, gnomes are clothed cattle injected from behind -- blue because they love blue creatures, blue because of the blue inside them.
When I said I feel like shopping carts, I didn't mean How slick they are, glazed with rain in the cart bank Or the hours they spend overflowing with bounty; I didn't mean how nested they are with the rest, Glinting metal aligned with golden dawn.
I regret, like coiled flowers, I burst when loosed, but the loosing is part of who I am
Because I can't keep fighting the world, I can't keep fighting myself