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Your hands had become a comfort to me, So when you pressed them to my chest I wasn’t afraid. But you didn’t stop At my skin, You pushed through my flesh, Bent my ribs back Like wire, And pulled my heart out. You dropped it on the ground, Repulsed, As if it were a spider, Or some other unsightly pest. I healed my chest without it, Sewed up my flesh, Because I didn’t want you to see me Break myself more Trying to fit it back into The grotesque cavity. It hurts more without it. I tried to swallow it down With my pride, Down, Down, Down, The dark well. So at least it would be safe inside me. It lives now as a lump in my throat That I feel constantly And won’t go away.
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Nov 9, 2018
Nov 9, 2018 at 11:18 PM UTC
The Heart of it
Your hands had become a comfort to me, So when you pressed them to my chest I wasn’t afraid. But you didn’t stop At my skin, You pushed through my flesh, Bent my ribs back Like wire, And pulled my heart out. You dropped it on the ground, Repulsed, As if it were a spider, Or some other unsightly pest. I healed my chest without it, Sewed up my flesh, Because I didn’t want you to see me Break myself more Trying to fit it back into The grotesque cavity. It hurts more without it. I tried to swallow it down With my pride, Down, Down, Down, The dark well. So at least it would be safe inside me. It lives now as a lump in my throat That I feel constantly And won’t go away.
AnonymousFreak
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Nov 9, 2018
Nov 9, 2018 at 11:18 PM UTC
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