It could be better

Does it follow that I could be better if I know I could be worse 

What's the point in clean if it will end up in dirt

I've thrown daffodils at tankers

Am I keeping my head above water but weighed down with an anchor 

That I can't take off 

What is the point of birds who can't take off

I may never have eyes 

smile 

at works that have tumbled out of my mind that can begin to live outside of my wildest dreams 

Writers who write for themselves to woo over one could word it as such 

But it could be worse it could be an itch unable to be quenched but multiplied that eats the host alive from the inside to its end let's not pretend 

We serve no ends 

And that 

we are not the made up of different pens that patented mascara after constructing plays 

Restrained 

How can I refrain from being attached when it is the other that is latched upon ever strong 

What would you then proceed to fill in the words of my song

Have you ever tried to get clothed within a windowless room criminally lacking In reflective surfaces 

What purchases could make worthlessness become purpose 

Can you tell me

Does the merchant only take plastic might have to pay for a bag to help me transport its irregular packaging 

I guess it could be better we could have forever or it could be worse in that forever 

doesnt have a form that I could lust after 

and help me spiral into debt and debilitating affairs to purchase forever for forever