Lathered…..

What is it to be the rendered and the free?
Next to self, it’s a disease
Rembrandts and withered feelings
Of abandonment
Featuring the one I adore
In a sense of notoriety
I found myself feeling
Confused and parted
In and out of me
And fighting the words
And what I never thought
I was worth
To be solid, to be loved,
To be more…
To be me.

You found me lathering
My life against my bosoms
and can
You understand
That I don’t get it or want to
Find what I’m set – for
Just trying to be here
And let someone come find me…
Cuz, I’m too tired to do the work for me anymore.

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