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Sugar has grown on me,
what once sat untouched in delicate china, is now heaped
spoonful after spoonful,
into my tea

the sticky poison clamping
my tongue to the roof of
my mouth

why?

I guess I stopped feeling 'sweet enough', I felt like I'd lost my audience, who would clammer and chant my name until

nothing

silence piercing my ears with needles, where the **** were the cheers? The applause?

I am a broken bird, fallen from my perch to the dusty floor of my cage. I utter not the slightest moan,

sugar,

I crave.
Perfect
I'm not
And
Sorry for anything
I'm not even
Close
Keep watching
I'm breaking
Rules
There are so many
Self hate
I'm not okay with
Myself
I'm in love with
The idea of suicide
I hate
Living
I love the thrill of
Cutting
So I'm discouraging
Someone I'm not
I hate being

(Now read it from the bottom line up)
 Jul 2017 Yogita Tahilram
Shaxy
Your eyes, like mine; They
glisten in the sunlight, but
weep buckets at night.

— The End —