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Malia Dec 12
I’m a tornado in a bottle but you
Grasp my glass cage and you
π˜šπ˜π˜ˆπ˜’π˜Œ π˜šπ˜π˜ˆπ˜’π˜Œ π˜šπ˜π˜ˆπ˜’π˜Œ
You take me by the (bottle) neck and you
Toss me flying in the air and catch
Me again, flirting with death like life
Is a game, and I’m telling youβ€”
I’m telling youβ€”
π˜šπ˜›π˜–π˜— π˜π˜›, π˜šπ˜›π˜–π˜— π˜π˜›, π˜“π˜π˜šπ˜›π˜Œπ˜•β€”

shattered glass bloodstains
no tears but shock freezing the lines
on your face pick up the pieces
no don’t let it cut your fingers.
sorry. sorry.
sorry. sorry. sorry.
Edited from a 2019 poem. Wow, middle school was crazy

— The End —