Paper. Mâché.

Pictures swirl and images fade
so why will she feel like yesterday?
A mind won’t stop at a masquerade
her mind won’t crop a scrawled out face
I face the day of paper mâché
I hold out arms, a warm embrace
a mind won’t stop for a gradual mistake
his mind won’t stop to further complicate
so pictures grey, images delayed,
I hold on for their warm embrace.

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