My tracks are not valid.
But my traits are legit.
My lips are curved in anticipation.
Awaiting my lover's touch.
His affection is the debt.
But who's gonna take the credit.
My reflection in the mirror screams, girl with a shallow mind. Dont touch me, am fragile, don't break me.
Languages of words.
Playing pun on my mind.
The green beauty of my pen.
Ozoing echoes from far beyond.
The silent messages of my scrool.
Which no layman can deduce.
I am prone to tear drops of my gesticulations.
Sneezing ink out of my Nostrils.
Scars of allusion cresting my body.
The firm stance of the boom mic defines me.
Every day I watch the children playing out their lives.
Their shoes can't fit me.
The challenges and nostalgia of childhood.
I believe and trust the beauty of the hiaku.
Awaiting the day when heena would be applied to my hands just like I watch in movies.
But for all it is
Dreams but my tongues potrayed beautiful noise
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