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Jan 2019
My mom wails that
I’m a mess.
That I need to get my life together.

I’m tempted to grab a mirror,
Put it up against my face
and say:

“Stop yelling at your reflection.
Do you ever think
to decorate this mirror in flowers
or to give it endless kisses
until it kisses you back?”

Loud noises filled with poison
will never love you back.
Brizar Poetry
Written by
Brizar Poetry  24/F/UNIVERSE
(24/F/UNIVERSE)   
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