Gold High Heels
Running in your golden high heels, with time the pain heals, window panes sealed, you're blind to the signs of silver wind chimes, pealing open clam shells for designed black pearls, the world is winding frames of photographs trapping characters within paragraphs, day after day I roll this pair of dice in hopes to roll two 7's and discover paradise, your hair is nice, all golden yellow in the summer sun, spare the spice, some plane advice, paradox mirrors and pencil traced tears, with the direction of paper airplanes, stare sane in the face of sections erased by stinsil minds, simple drapes tarnished with age, hiding in shades, blades of grass I crawl upon with the ants, antennas feel the fan blades of butterfly wings, a dream, asleep, a stream of though so deep I get caught in this world of make believe, the story of my life told so bold in beautiful imagination, chasing a thought and capturing it, lock it in my box, behind my eyes lye lies of complexity so empty the enemy has lost their minds, find them, chalk their bodies, walk all over them in my golden high heels.
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