Nobody's pretty because we're all ugly.
I'm worried about the flammable nature of bridges and my pyromaniac heart.
I have the same smile on my face as an orphan when possible parents come to shop for a child.
Help me, wild animals.
Help me to remember what life is like without restraints.
Invade my hands.
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These bullet holes around my body have names.
Samantha. Janine. Patricia.
Near Mrs.
Let me be a dark horse.
Let an obsidian fire take up residence in my chest and make of it a comfortable home. Snuff out my conscience.
I want "I love you" and "I'm sorry" to flow easily from between my lips easily, when and as the...y're needed.
Not only when I feel them.
I want this empty grave inside me to be a fireplace for every christmas tree I've ever found beautiful.
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