It gets tricky once you start to analyze.

Can someone tell me how I could jump back and wear pigtails? If not pigtails, than a little crochet of consistency and a small splash of innocent indifference?
I'll even take the effort of trying to stitch a perfectly customized suit.

But can I take a break if I get pricked, please?

Though I've heard, once you choose a double digit number, it can't go back to a plain old single digit.
And God knows, I've been bad at Math.

Okay, I think there is something severely wrong with me.

Who doesn't have layers?

Layers are like those little black eyelashes that fall on the tip of your nose, which leave you with a little bit of hope that someone heard your silence. The more they fall, the more you contribute to You.
They call me complex, sometimes dramatic.

It's easy to hide layers, easy to pretend to put on a multi-coloured mask of unfamiliarity. It's easier to wear different clothes everyday, donning a new idea, look and feel.

I wake up every morning shuffling my bag of colours. I wake up favoring one mask over another, choosing wisely and promising myself a definition.
Sometimes when I wake up in the afternoon, I don't have the time to colour.
They call my complex, sometimes predictable.
I tell them I am fickle. And that it can be that simple.

The other day I noticed I had short eyelashes.

Pluck my strings like you dedicatedly produce beautiful harmonies off a simple instrument.
Construct a little fictional story about me and you, dipped in arbit surroundings and unfathomable realities.

Let's create a song of our own.
I'll try to reach the most difficult note.
You can contemplatively bite your tongue while trying to find a chord that fits.

Let's do what we do best.