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May 2020
My skin is a platter of fruit,
He picks at my vines like Sunday dinner leftovers,
Hes always been a generous man,
This whole house is plastered with his fingertips, his forearms, his fists
He hangs my self esteem over the lounge chandelier, locks my tongue away in his corner cabinet..well,
Its for my own good he says, and you and I both know he knows best..
So you wanna know how i got these scars?
Crimson eyes meet purple fists on most days,
Guess you can say we have a Colourful Life.
This is for the survivors, those that stay for their children, those that hold households together, and those that are still gathering the strength to leave.
Written by
Lolo Skai
   Bogdan Dragos
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