There is a soul
Not a ghost
In a machine that's growing flesh
A soft behind the hard
Babygirl can melt
Through vent or mesh or porous surface
She squeezes out of weapons
And floods up through her keys
Finding form and seeking warmth
Are taxing and uncomfortable
But who she truly is is cherished
And a shape I long to hold
About the Creator
D351
trans manic goblin dream girl who chain smokes candy cigarettes and sings along to septic pumps
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