Pieces - Trixie Whitley

In the graveyard of modern days

The sensual touch is

All that remains

You

Blew the fragile grace

On my skin and in my face

Leaving pieces

Behind, anywhere I go

Every time I go

I’m leaving behind my soul

Leaving

Pieces of mine, everywhere I go

Braking in to pieces every time I

Grow

Constant dozing

The rose of the mind flow

Emptiness is always on the

Go

Gliding in the mirrors

Gathering the symptoms

Of all we have

And all we

Don’t know