She offered three limbs
And played naked infront of a bleeding crowd of a mirror
She sold her face
She sold her laugh
Cut them right off
Joined th world for a bath
Like a tap
Leaking from her lap
The creations of th ever future.
I am not here to be listened to.
What I say is a dying plant.
You shouldn’t feel obliged either.
With just our breaths we’ll chant.
I didn’t come here to be heard