RideDaGurls17

GRAB LIFE BY THE BALLS
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PropellerAds
2005-03-31 01:36:33 (UTC)

poem..from the used..*im a fake*

Small, simple, safe priceRise the wake and carry me with
all of my regretsThis is not a small cut that scabs, and
dries, and flakes, and healsAnd I am not afraid to dieI'm
not afraid to bleed, and fuck, and fight.I want the pain
of paymentWhat's left, but a section of pigmy size
cutsMuch like a slew of a thousand unwanted fucksWould you
be my little cut?Would you be my thousand fucks?And make
mark leaving space for the guilt to be liquidTo fill, and
spill over, and under my thoughtsMy sad, sorry, selfish
cry out to the cutterI'm cutting trying to picture your
black broken heartLove is not like anythingEspecially a
fucking knife


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