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Perfect Posture

Everything Beautiful inside of me is taken.

 

Everything that framed my body has cracked.

 

Everything that once molded who I was and what I wanted to become has shattered.

 

Everything healthy inside of me has hollowed out and left completly.

And I feel dead inside.

 

So I curse my features,

       For they do not follow suit.

 

And I am broken.

 

But a solid mask is stuck in place,

masking my truths from any followers.

 

So I stay peaced together.

 

Hiding from my true form.

 

 

So well that I hide from myself

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Written by
sierra-martin
20 / F / American
Published
Jan 12, 2012
Lines·Words
13·91
Notes

This is an old poem that I dug up, and thought someone might relate to. Don't give up! The answer is always out there, even if it is good at hiding.

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