she called me a bottled storm once
a snowglobe
shook me like childs play
she didnt think fiber glass crack could spread
my scars are feathering into webs
you can see them on all the surfaces
i used to be beautiful,
bottled this way
she just keeps shaking
theres a swell in my ocean of a heart
ive got my board under my feet
my ind on my dreams
along for the ride it seems
waiting for this plastic hurricane to settle
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