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Between the Frames, Inside the Tracks

Between the Frames, Inside the Tracks

Focused on light-beats between the frames
Veiled in vain to disguise she’s still the same, yea though she’s ever changed
While self-prescribed tracks are dosed by the singing stereo
Echoing the vertigo traps of circular thoughts
Warm hands and soft tears never rival robots
Inside her there’s no game, just an animal finding the wild
She slings her laughing lassos with static smiles, too blue to mock
Never holding still for the darkness, looping around and around again
The sounds in the songs are her eternal clock,
repeating a softer still stinging earth to comprehend.

-Natalie Wheeler

     

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