I been taught my whole life what to do , morals of life , to be the best self of me ,

but the girl i been turning everyday is like, light from dieing stars, scatting the light of pain ,

but never taught how to question my fears , how to interact with infinite gaze of my unfilled moments passing by,

my poor little younger reflection questioning me, of my picture of her ,it's like iam bleeding internally with my own self twisting nife to my unfinished dreams I'm dropping behind , burying the only fantasy we still want and to the self i'm becoming,

This tremendous change in my self , to the person I can't distinguish from who i was , like a infant to criminal girl ,of being a slow poison to my own life?

i don't know weather im still hiding spark that i owe to the girl still watching from tiny window in my brain,

If only i could escape wht i have strictly thought, what life is by torn monks .

if only i could make my mind to not to drown beanth the norms that creating a garden of needles upside down catching my will every time I try.

imagine a box of danger pins on sale at your local wal-mart

then could being straight be considered such as well. 

im just wondering actually

Fur shoes.

Can anyone explain, or point me towards pictures, please?

Context: the 1980s. As if you needed to ask.