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Jul 2019
I am not a saint and neither are you.
So what are we to do -
But sit back and
Watch the same suspects;
Sit in self-pity,
Sick to their stomachs;
With own-grown notions;
Of a love so cavity-sweet.
A rotten romance
Written by children -
Drags us all to the dentist.

As it takes centre stage;
We act it out together.
Watch as they gorge themselves
Fat on the falsity;
Stuck in a daze of how they
Ought to be;
Of how they'll never be.

And the hope heals the heat of it.
Softens the sting of it -
Like milk;
But like milk that sits stagnant;
It'll slowly turn sour.
Watch as the older ones choke on it.
Swig back and cough up the chunks in it.
Self-hatred never settled well.

Look but don't touch.
People like us are too rough;
For the people of painted porcelain.
Fairy-tale spines are feeble;
Paper hearts and scripted stories
Smolder in the heat of us;
Fold with the weight of us.

And I will never understand,
Why delusions rule reality?
Why broken hearts are promised
to teenage dreamers?
Why mad in love is the golden rule?
Surely, insanity only drives you to a hospital?
I can't go back down that road.
I want to be sane in love;
The same in love;
Or not in love.
After all,
What's wrong with a little *** and sanity?

So, We are not saints;
And I don't believe in god.
I don't need your love story.
Baby don't lie to me;
Heaven isn't here for the finding;
**** fake fantasies;
Let's make our own masterpiece;
Just paint my skin with your lips
with my lips on your skin;
before we fall asleep.

I hung your heart
With your coat by the door,
You can have it back;
When you leave in the morning.

Written by
Hanna C S  18/F/London
   BR Dragos
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