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Apr 2017
These one-shot wounds are piling up
Hit me again, one bullet’s not enough
Don’t stop firing till we’re corpses walking
Measly hateful human bodies rotting


My lashing tongue goads you into the fight
Broken bodies fighting for bruised pride
Burning tears are your only defense
And beautiful make-up to hide battered flesh

Meanwhile, I’ll wear a costume made of words
To hide the melted plastic burns
We can both easily lie to a world of fools
At least, until the next uncivilized duel
I know that every single fight is my fault. Every wound is my fault.
Written by
coqueta
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