take the paper, take the glue, and make me into a dream of a girl. emboss my mouth in ink and pixel, cut the mistakes out with quick precision. perfect the diction, take away the stumbling sentences of uneloquence and replace them with flourishes of grace, sprezzatura. make all my words a wonderland of sweet and simple perfection. make my voice like a song whose lyrics are sung by choirs.
get the markers, get the paints. make my eyes like blue-grey fire, like steel like some sort of venutian metal. seal the tears inside with strong and patient bond, so i no longer wash the tint away with a child's weeping. take away the fog of self doubt and gloss each black circle to a confident shine.
get the ruler, take a rope. bind my hands to my work and to my vision. measure my fingers, long little spindles, and stretch them to reach across the trenches they've carved around me. bind them to the keys, to the bow, to the frets- to anything that will make a sweeter sound than i, to cover up the tick of my heart slowing still.