Why does it not moving at all?
Dancing through, below the stomach's ache
What's the point of it crawling freely at my property?
The bitter taste stays,
The thorns of its touch, I feel it constantly

Will it carry me away?
Says I belong to its vehemence,
Lurking coldly within my skin.
Tempestly, with safety it gives,
The empty storm it will bring

The second skin it has built,
Trying to escape it, but its in me, living,
Mostly, its me.