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Are these the arms that So carefully enveloped My small, sinking shoulders? My legs must be soldiers To keep moving Though my bones are lead And the pain in my head Echoes through every cell That composes this broken body— This body that is dead. This body that is not mine. I am a stranger.      (Madeline      Am I in love?      It's not like they said it would be) They say it is What we are made to find, The reason for human existence. Is not everything we do Driven by the mad desire To feel cared for? We're chasing a delusion: Something people tell themselves To help them fall asleep at night. We live on children's bedtime stories, Though we were never children. Maybe one day we will be After learning to cry more softly As not to be made vulnerable To those who do not wish to hear it, After learning to stifle those tears After the nightmares And the panic attacks,      (Madeline      Find me—     I have lost myself again      But you seem to know me) When my world comes crashing down And my shattered limbs frame My unevenly bruised skin.      (Madeline      Will you hold me again?      I feel much stronger      When you are here with me)      (I've never      Wanted to forget anything more      Than I've wanted to forget myself) I never knew that the drug I would become addicted to Would not be painkiller, Nor antidepressants.      (I never knew      It would have soft      Pale skin and clear      Bright eyes and a      Warmth that permeates even my      Fossilized heart)
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Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 9:25 PM UTC
Madeline
Are these the arms that So carefully enveloped My small, sinking shoulders? My legs must be soldiers To keep moving Though my bones are lead And the pain in my head Echoes through every cell That composes this broken body— This body that is dead. This body that is not mine. I am a stranger.      (Madeline      Am I in love?      It's not like they said it would be) They say it is What we are made to find, The reason for human existence. Is not everything we do Driven by the mad desire To feel cared for? We're chasing a delusion: Something people tell themselves To help them fall asleep at night. We live on children's bedtime stories, Though we were never children. Maybe one day we will be After learning to cry more softly As not to be made vulnerable To those who do not wish to hear it, After learning to stifle those tears After the nightmares And the panic attacks,      (Madeline      Find me—     I have lost myself again      But you seem to know me) When my world comes crashing down And my shattered limbs frame My unevenly bruised skin.      (Madeline      Will you hold me again?      I feel much stronger      When you are here with me)      (I've never      Wanted to forget anything more      Than I've wanted to forget myself) I never knew that the drug I would become addicted to Would not be painkiller, Nor antidepressants.      (I never knew      It would have soft      Pale skin and clear      Bright eyes and a      Warmth that permeates even my      Fossilized heart)
zita-nonie-hasenkamp
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Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 9:25 PM UTC
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