Obvious Imperfections - Typesetter

No, this isn’t where the line for morals begins.

I have obvious imperfections.

The sun has been setting all day and I’m completely incapable of anything.

The only piece of jewelry I own zipped up to my chin.

It dangles like your hope for salvation, but I only want to get warm.

The worst fucking time of year, when everything is covered in dirty snow and

jaded reasons for living.

I think that you’re only in love because you’re cold.

I understand that you don’t want to be alone but I don’t share the sentiment.

I’ve been questioning everything, from the roots that start on your head and

grow down to your knees;

the social constructs we’ve inherited, the things

we’ll never break;

I let my flag of flaws fly and cast a broad shadow;

maybe it will all get better when we make it to wild’s end.

Can’t you understand that I just want to be alone?