Plane Jane lacked foundation
But her natural beauty had perfect gestation
Raised among wolves, a flower of hope, though...
Given her parental genes, biologically broke
A bronzed body that warrants the gold
Deep down she knows, so she feeds off control
Reaps what I sow
Sleeps then wakes in a perfected mold
Unhindered by the cracks in her soul
Her ways can't dismay her knack not to fold
She's mostly good, until changes occur
Extreme happiness is strangled and slurred
Her pain won't always remain inert
And the strain to suppress corrects...
And it flames through the Earth
Over the years I learned to cope with her temper
A writer of worth, sun soaked in the winter
Bubbly nights to cloak the pain she delivers
It's odd though, I can write of my life and not quiver
Just knowing Plane Jane to never have read
Not the brightest bulb illuminating the shed
Hits the gym once a week to be svelte
She soars high, cloud nine,
Acid rain primed and then...
~melts~
At night Plane Jane ignites like a rocket
howling through the night skies lacking logic
She knows “all-truth”, a self proclaimed prophet
Only problem with turbulence is when the mane frames lost it
Cautious times quickly devolve and regress
A cluster-fucking fist doling out regrets
Shifting winds morph into heaves
And words are thrown about without heat
Each jab's a cold front swung with decree
Her screaming engine is bursting it's seams
She's coming undone, every lose screw
Cracks the block and shoots through
Her rotors strut into abyss
The throbbing pain of choking the grip
Nearly losing control of the skiff
I bank right praying we'd land and live
Yet deep down knowing we'll cease to exist
The fighting of fists began the end of this
relation-ship
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