Weeds and flowers grown from the ground, simultaneously it creeps up her legs. Dangerous vines wrapping around her two worlds. Choking on her identities, trying mesh her inner-self, with her outer. The feeling is nice as it tickles up her thighs, stroking her stomache, and into her heart it twirls.
But...
Looking at her. Is she being fooled? That isn't what she wants. The Social identity is untouchable and mysterious. A memory one can never quiet recall to the forefront of the mind, is fueled to be remembered by the body. Dangerous. But the dreams still counts it as a feel good incorporation.
Look at me
Her body screamed, pay attention to me! Know who she is. All they heard was told through the grapevine. And its not enough. A pretty distant shell, with a flowery flirtatious nature. All she wants is not to hurt anymore. But then again she likes the thrones. A misinterpret sign of the mind.
What do they know about her? Anything? Nothing really it seems. Because they cant tell if they are getting the flower or the weeds.