Sometimes I wish I tasted artistic
Like acrylic paint kisses
Vintage shoes and sundresses
Scarves swirling twirling my hair
Just standing there smiling
Not even pretending I know what's going on
So deliciously free and unhinged
Scribbling the swirls on the top of my hand
Instead of inking my palms to stay hidden

(because what if my mother found
out i wasn't quite as amazing as i
want to be and i cant be perfectly
wrapped in the letter "A" and say
certain things certain ways i'm just
a failure in this life)

But I just hide
Closing myself with skin
Voiceless sounds echoing from my tongue

Everyone likes me make-believe better