Ringing in my ears bodies fall to grinding gears and the bodies are of all, they are of you and I and I wish that I could fly, but I'm here and I know why
. . . A skirt falls to my knees, rotting flowers and scattered bees pollen sticking to fickle limbs, It's where I want to be . . .
Is there any other place for a girl with my malaise? Stunted, shoelaces undone; the calamity of choice, “There's a million different ways, I'm sure, to get rid of that sap,” but that tree is always there and it's where you and I lay back
A skirt unstained, a mind unmaimed for these, I'd get down on my knees for these, I'd find humility and teach myself how to say “Please,” for this string could come undone when I want it made and sewn for I want to tell you, Violet, I am proud of how you've grown