What can I do to make this my fault?
I'd eat the shrapnel if I
I am the bully and the waffler
Bruising blooming on my skin
Like ink blots on every page I've read
And after all, it seems that I'm the
one who has shapes on the wall
And as the lanterns fell,
the thorny roots dispelled
Telling me the truth that I suppose
I was the desert on the island,
the plane that crashes on the sand
I thought that I could be the village
Filled with houses, filled with guilt
and never thinking this is not my fault
And after all it seems that I'm the
one who casts shapes on the wall
And as the mountains fell,
the thorny roots dispelled
And after all, it seems that I'm the
Tales your parents told and can't recall,
but haunt you nonetheless
the water filled with ghosts
that I had carried all along
Telling me the truth that I
4.8
