Heated shallow words
bite and burn my skin;
the scars they leave build and build
until I am something else entirely.
I am no longer my own,
instead consumed by boiling words
and loathed by single syllables.
My outside is still myself;
with the same hands and lips.
but with every breath I take
my soul can't help but to crumble
and pray for a day in which it can break
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