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A Beautiful Mess


I am tired of the rain pouring down, 
Being enough to soak me, but not enough to let me drown.
I am tired of mistreatment, deceit, and self denigrating lies
Chains of banter that haunt the spirit,
Gradually eating me alive.

You are the disease upon which I tremble,
You are the root of the wicked lies.
The empire of the eternal winter,
The spiral around my demise.

And I wish that I could vanish,
And I wish that the girl who walked with a cohesive mask wasn’t a disgusting lie.
 But the real girl inside is the one who is cold and numb
With a bitter chill that lies in her eyes

Broken glass in its crystallized sting  
She walks across the beauty of its tingling pain
Her limbs take on hues of purple, becoming colder by the day,
The lines blur together, as she is spinning in the pouring rain.

The sun shines, brightly,
But she forgets the warmth that exists
She spins through life in what people say beautifully
But she knows that it’s really a mess.

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