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Here we are,
sculpting our damaged flesh
into bigger problems.
Taking two strides
with a knife
only to puncture old wounds.
We are so busy
stuffing regrets into our ribcage,
only to stitch ourselves back up
with shaking hands, a needle, and thread.
We cry through the night
as blood red tears
soak our pillowcase,
and remorse floats around our heads.
Our bones twist
into shapes of our past,
taking the form of spirits
that won't die.
We thought the dawn was rising,
but it was only another misguided soul.
Take your lips
and empty your whispered words
onto my skin.
We will spend hours
trying to rewrite the past,
but our bodies will burn away with our fear.
I have spent too long
trying to escape my demons.
Please,
don't leave me here.
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