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I'm probably lost in the woods
When the trees behind me moving
Like the trails I left keep changing
Looking back they all suddenly hiding

Reality, I have different story
What I tell has a different story
Like what I tell is not what I'm hearing
Ask them what but they all not talking

I'm probably talking to birds
When I tell my story they barely look at my face
Then after they all fly away
And my story become a different sound when tell

They are my human friends
And when I tell them my story it's my heart they can felt
Then after they're gone it's just time that pull as away
And then my story it's just full of understanding by them self

I'm probably living in a horror fairytale
When hansel and gretel find the house of bread
I'm the witch inside that tasty place
Birds take a bite but then they smile even if it's bittersweet in taste

I'm in a state with a happy face but with a poorly state
When they find me and my place
I show them my bitter taste
But they give me sweetness of acceptance without telling them

When did I start to find that kind of taste?


This content is accurate and true to the best of the author’s knowledge and is not meant to substitute for formal and individualized advice from a qualified professional.

© 2020 Xalice

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