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Aug 28
effortlessly shriveled into my feet, nails are propelling through me.
they confine me to this unforgiving plane.
“I am so unhappy,”
but swallowing my pride leaves a film in my mouth.
in front of my mirror is a manufactured seat of chaos.
I decided to observe the disharmony sitting behind me,
it reluctantly acknowledged me too.
adulterated and cold,
I know that the nails will begin to rust.
Written by
chlorine  16/F
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