She twirled and twirled
Her mind and speech already past slurred.
For she was intoxicated off the world
The lights and sounds.
The hurt and tears.
The scars and scrapes.
She was intoxicated off the thought of how the mind was tricked into believing pretty little words.
Words are just lines and curves strung together that have meanings that could be changed any second.
The thought of how anything could be replaced left her awestruckt.
Nothing was permanent. Not even the scars on her wrist for they would soon decay and be apart of the flowers and the grass.
This wonderful intoxication was something that she would pray for it to one day last.
/k.p./
