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Some people feel their pain with grace. Some people swallow their emotion and let It claw out of their chest with an exquisite Spray of blood and a melodious sob. Some people wake every morning, Sure that they are alive because their heart Is adorned with the scars to prove it. Some people are a pretty kind of sad. Other people are brutish transformers. Other people quietly inject their toxic pain Into their bloodstream and wait for it to run its course. Other people work every day to sweat it out, But never quite feel clean enough. With clogged arteries, other people explode. Their pain takes their power and other people Break things, break people, break love. In hiding you will find only danger; There is never anything beautiful about anger.
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Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 4:51 PM UTC
A Pretty Kind of Sad
Some people feel their pain with grace. Some people swallow their emotion and let It claw out of their chest with an exquisite Spray of blood and a melodious sob. Some people wake every morning, Sure that they are alive because their heart Is adorned with the scars to prove it. Some people are a pretty kind of sad. Other people are brutish transformers. Other people quietly inject their toxic pain Into their bloodstream and wait for it to run its course. Other people work every day to sweat it out, But never quite feel clean enough. With clogged arteries, other people explode. Their pain takes their power and other people Break things, break people, break love. In hiding you will find only danger; There is never anything beautiful about anger.
ladybird6b
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Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 4:51 PM UTC
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