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Jan 2015
I was the one who swallowed the sun
and yet it is your touch that burns
on to my skin like an insignia of shame;
halos of quiet desperation,
a footprint on the welcome mat to our own
little hell.

So the next time you cry for your skin,
remember
I scar for you.
Depressed.
rained-on parade
Written by
rained-on parade  Sheffield, England
(Sheffield, England)   
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