3/4

The greener the words,
The harder I swallow.
And no matter how hollow the woods look before me,
I’m dreaming of pink tomorrow.

The sweeter the sounds,
The bigger the gap.
Inside my whole heart and the mind and the thought
All I can gather is pieces of scrap.

The lighter the fire,
The rougher the bed.
I tremble and I cuddle in barbed wire
And my flesh is red.

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