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The return policy for my heart has expired.
Sold at a cheap price, a sale bin bargain.
I got tricked at my own back door.
Pushed off a truck again.
Bartered over the table, no receipt.
Complacent defeat, or constant torture
It's not even my choice if I function anymore.
Yes, Ma'am. you can do whatever you wan't.
You own me, your toy, you own all of this.
You bought me with a mere kiss.
Slump down motionless.
You can do whatever you want with me.
But you don't want anything.
I have no real meaning.
Like an unwanted doll,
opened Christmas morning.
You cut me open and ripped out my stuffing.
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