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Rated: 13+ · Prose · Romance/Love · #1760604
Just one of those crazy things I write and then mean a lot to me years later.
Wondering what is wrong, my mind is in a fog. And it's almost forgot, how to retort the what? The situation I'm in, is laying thin, my nerves are gone I can't be whole again. Time is spent and wasted in, trivial pursuits of mere men. The wasting they do is paramount to, the wanton destruction that, there wanting leads to, it's quite a moment. The seeping bleeds through, leading to you, followed by no one, or was it two? My soul turns to fire and burns yours up, no fight to be trying just burning up. Like a library of books that read you, I'll come outta nowhere and stab your f-ing face. Tissue damage is only surface to scar the beauty, if I wanted to hurt you I would have used words that sink far in. I'm losing a battle I'm winning in. And as words wrap around my chest, in air that was yours once, I bleed. From the places I always do. Tantamount proportions of handouts discovered, that you shouldn't accept handouts from anyone. I have polymorphic feelings, neon contortionist thoughts, and I bleed from old scars every time that I have fought. Surreptitious mind grips got me slipping you out of control, maybe for good I dunno. I tried to get my thoughts I went after, but being a hypocrite started with being a doctor. That door on my heart, what's the lock for? It's full of lava and no one could possibly walk forward.
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