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Blood, pain and tears.

I’m an over thinker                                    A pain carrier                                       Yours mine and theirs I’ll carry    Because pain is supposed to hurt      And I get high off the sharp searing hot blades of tears that rack my being

 

“Go out”, “make friends” is all I hear. Honestly it pisses me off .                 Why would I want to be there            With all the bubble and shrill laughter And the happiness that makes me want to cut myself, it’s disgusting really

 

I romanticize suffering                      Even though I know the blood is not beautiful                                                    It’s just really red and wet

 

I want to be happy                                  it’s just been so long I fear I won’t recognize it                                                     I suspect it came with you though      And that’s not good.                              Cos you can take it back whenever    and all I’ll be left with is this blood With its redness and  wetness but it’s not beautiful

 

You’re beautiful                                      You tell me I am too.                                  I don’t want the blood .No, not really    I want our beauty                                         I need our magic.

writing in this scattered manner turned out more difficult than I expected. I’ve missed being here, been recovering from exhaustion, something I didn’t even think was possible or even that serious. Thank you guys for your messages on how much you like what I’m doing, you make typing from my phone less tiring and very worthwhile .

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