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I am the words they carved Into my skin, The amalgamate Of everything I’ve sinned. My hands light fire to all that I can touch, Burning for a day Before it turns to dust, It turns to dust. “Fight fire with fire,” they spit, Doesn’t make it not Burn like acid. Rain pours down Onto my skin, And sure enough, it Hurts like acid, Like Acid. Didn’t mean a single word that they said, Doesn’t mean You didn’t mean For it to happen My arms are made of wood, And yours are steel. Just because you’re in pain Doesn’t mean others can’t Feel, Everyone still feels. Everything still Feels. “Fight fire with fire,” they spit, Doesn’t make it not Burn like acid. Rain pours down Onto my skin, But it doesn’t make it not Burn Like Acid.
0
Jul 26, 2025
Jul 26, 2025 at 10:52 PM UTC
Anything lower than seven, or something.
I am the words they carved Into my skin, The amalgamate Of everything I’ve sinned. My hands light fire to all that I can touch, Burning for a day Before it turns to dust, It turns to dust. “Fight fire with fire,” they spit, Doesn’t make it not Burn like acid. Rain pours down Onto my skin, And sure enough, it Hurts like acid, Like Acid. Didn’t mean a single word that they said, Doesn’t mean You didn’t mean For it to happen My arms are made of wood, And yours are steel. Just because you’re in pain Doesn’t mean others can’t Feel, Everyone still feels. Everything still Feels. “Fight fire with fire,” they spit, Doesn’t make it not Burn like acid. Rain pours down Onto my skin, But it doesn’t make it not Burn Like Acid.
Arii_Does_ARTZZZ
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Jul 26, 2025
Jul 26, 2025 at 10:52 PM UTC
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