Hearts. Bodies. Feet.

Trembling. Crumbling. Tripping.
The agony in her power.
She could eat us all up in waves,
While she was shaking it off in sways,
Rattling with her stalwart balance,
For a vengeance for pain.

We'd never have the time,

oh we'd never have the time,

to see through her as we trod upon her endless expanse, over and over.

The weight of our race,

The recurring craze of her selfless embrace
It's as if she screamed and went back in, out of a mother's guilt for the sake of our selfish outpours.
 

This is it. The tremors is her, bursting out in phases.

And while we can only run away from our ceilings,

We can't run away from her agonising implodings.
We'd still curse her timing maybe.
We'd still curse her otherwise maybe.

One day. We'd watch. We'd tremble;

All of our momentary prides eaten up,
In the womb of her aching giggles.