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My
      thoughts
                 are
distorting
     my
         feelings
someone
              say
                  I'm
        ­              
dreaming..
Do I write my poems,
Or do they write me?
I have only two desires:
To feel and be felt
Anyone can be someone for a short period of time
Something I've learned.
Why do we do

All the things that we do?
me in the mirror

i stare hard
as if im waiting for something to

happen

but all i see is
this
always this

every time
the bore the bore
it eats at me

but then a storm

fist
rising up my throat
here it comes
to grab my tongue
you are so ugly
so beautiful and pure
my rotten angel
your touch has no cure
I know I'm feeling
what I never knew before
more than a stranger
I know I love you
never been more sure
my rotten angel
I was no more
the smile you painted
in tears you pour
before I could be
you made me yours
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