Imperfect Beauty by Burgundy Red

You were once loved
By the hands that guided you here
But now they hold you with despair

Your fingers graze the flowers tall
The wind blows through your skin
And it burns you of your hair

“Noise” is a strict definition of this music. As I do fall into this genre and subsequent genres of this music I however do not consider it such. I aim to bring an ethereal and ephemeral experience. This art form is used for me to express my emotional trauma within my self. Whether it be physical, emotional, mental, or religious.

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