The Flaws
The Flaws wings stories
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pro_crastinate
pro_crastinate The truly famous live in infamy
Autoplay OFF   •   6 months ago
A poem.

The Flaws

Wings spread

Wings spread Soaring softly

Wings spread Soaring softly But my torn parachute

Wings spread Soaring softly But my torn parachute Means I'll always fall.

Wings spread Soaring softly But my torn parachute Means I'll always fall. Who would catch me?

Wings spread Soaring softly But my torn parachute Means I'll always fall. Who would catch me? Who would sing the sour note

Wings spread Soaring softly But my torn parachute Means I'll always fall. Who would catch me? Who would sing the sour note In a broken melody?

Wings spread Soaring softly But my torn parachute Means I'll always fall. Who would catch me? Who would sing the sour note In a broken melody? I paint stains

Wings spread Soaring softly But my torn parachute Means I'll always fall. Who would catch me? Who would sing the sour note In a broken melody? I paint stains On the clearest canvas

Wings spread Soaring softly But my torn parachute Means I'll always fall. Who would catch me? Who would sing the sour note In a broken melody? I paint stains On the clearest canvas And shadows

Wings spread Soaring softly But my torn parachute Means I'll always fall. Who would catch me? Who would sing the sour note In a broken melody? I paint stains On the clearest canvas And shadows In the light.

What will be

What will be And what has been

What will be And what has been Are pale reflections

What will be And what has been Are pale reflections Of what could be.

What will be And what has been Are pale reflections Of what could be. Even the greenest leaf

What will be And what has been Are pale reflections Of what could be. Even the greenest leaf Shrivels in the gaze

What will be And what has been Are pale reflections Of what could be. Even the greenest leaf Shrivels in the gaze Of the monsters in my mind.

What will be And what has been Are pale reflections Of what could be. Even the greenest leaf Shrivels in the gaze Of the monsters in my mind. The cracks in the mirror

What will be And what has been Are pale reflections Of what could be. Even the greenest leaf Shrivels in the gaze Of the monsters in my mind. The cracks in the mirror Bring me everything that comes

What will be And what has been Are pale reflections Of what could be. Even the greenest leaf Shrivels in the gaze Of the monsters in my mind. The cracks in the mirror Bring me everything that comes In the darkest night.

Perfection stutters

Perfection stutters Falls

Perfection stutters Falls In the face of the creature

Perfection stutters Falls In the face of the creature From the cave that was my heart.

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