bleeding arms

You are cigarettes and cheap perfume

A drawer full of lace

A bucket of tears

The mirror’s been lying more than usual

It said you were beautiful

They said you made them sick

You are magazines and coffee stains

Lips covered in rouge

A mouth spilling out lies

You tell them you’re happy

You think you’d be happier dead

You are daydreams and illusions

A bracelet of gold

A wrist of scared red

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december monologue Written by:

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