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Emma Gaarden Poem
Covering your face with strokes of color and gold/, but as Hatshepsut your inside is dead, cold/
Likes or dislikes thats all that pops up/, yeah your soul disappeared, went cloud up/
Contouring overdone, below a crop top there is an illusion of abs/, not a sight of slack/, just to get some more egoboosting feedback/ and some more ads/
Obsessive fullness to creat that perfect look/, defections all fixed, viewers conclusion, yeah a milliondollar look/, everything done just to keep them followers hooked/
Meaningless ink confirms that you are one of the many copies in this gallery/ seductive nudity to provide for what you call a salary/
Like an addict/ you possess an unpleasant habit/, you use needles to poke a flat empty space out, just to get some more views at it/
Yeah instead of woman up/, you fillers up/, being so fake that you are getting true at it/
In a 6 inch cell case your life is locked/, charged with only a lense of glass, shouts out, blocked/
Constant tapping will crack that screen, your protection/, leaving your storebought curves slowly oxidizing, no more public acception/
Soon too post for the present, forgotten, as your time has lined out/, yeah this exhibition is over and you're out/
Copyright © Emma Gaarden | Year Posted 2018
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Details |
Emma Gaarden Poem
Tripped down in a shutter when i met you, now stuck in a mindgame/, in a psychopath's hold i try to remain sane/
Your words cleaves me/, your hands strokes me/, things i once fell for now decieves me/ and chokes me/
You terrorizing me/, investigating me/, furiously obscene/, using my body creating your own crime scene/, blue fingerprints all over, but for others to over see/
I hear your whispers at all time/, like a schizofrenic i become, when your violent thoughts interact with mine/. Maybe there is illness in my state of mind/, but before you, i sure was fine/
Playing your role posessed with mad hate/, an addiction/, for me it's only affliction/, what is fake/, what is fiction/
Repeatingly you pushing me over the cliff side/, just to leave me hanging, begging for your hand, so that you can, as you always do flip side/
Trying to play along to survive this mental manuskript/, but im outstripped/ and you just atone like there has been no conflict/
Copyright © Emma Gaarden | Year Posted 2018
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