on a cloud, painted in blue and gray
vivid visions on display, fading away
traveling through time and thoughts
im walking on a thin red line
turning white as i inhale
daydreaming and replaying, so real
morning sickness, mind twisted
in a search after my self
looking for something pure
white and clean as ghosts face
or perhaps something to twist
into your own image of perfection
as voices may tell, history in reverse
pictures and lies, fragments of my self
all laying on the floor, broken
im running on a thin white line
turning red as nose bleed





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