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Jun 30
Prepared especially for me
Wooden and heavy
Uncomfortable
Without the back to rest on
Broken
With bent legs
and a swayed seat
When I sit on it
it talks to me
Whispers ideas full of fears
Sticks nails through my skin

My chair

Measured and handmade
By me

Each day I try to leave you behind
Get rid of you and live my life
But you don’t want to
You always stay
You’ll never get away

You serve
just the right amount of pain

So I return
Go back for more
Sit down in your arms
to get hurt

And now I know
where I belong
Anya
Written by
Anya  42/F/London
(42/F/London)   
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