caked over with aqua green tears of siblings who had siblings, snatched away like the portrait no one knew how to interpret, and won't weep. Instead they place it on an easel until it dries and prick holes into the framework until it resembles mugshot because child, this suits their eyes or their egos, which are plastered over their eyes, a bit better. And this, is all bitter no sweet pungent taste to swallow it down with. All glue bottle turned meal no warning, not to indulge adhered to; so it seems they've got we into a sticky situation. Souls pasted to the understitching of the stomach praying that no one pries it loose, molds it into a massacred macramĂŠ of an ordeal. "I'm sorry kiddo, you are only a toddler barely tilling the first flickers of your time here and still, you have to be taught, from the beginning how not to be drawn up taut in your own blood & pigment, outlined in someone's chalk, for neglecting to fit their color wheel"
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