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her skin is made of newspaper strips
claiming explosions and days of infamy
while through sprinkler systems and
hall that aren't hallowed she runs,
apologizing for midnight regrets
trying not to scream, because all she really wants to do
is dent the wall with his body
and not say why.
©2006-2009 ~Pluia
:iconpluia:

Author's Comments

i wanna fucking tear you apart.


yeah, i hate this.
this meaning the poem.

Comments


love 0 0 joy 0 0 wow 0 0 mad 0 0 sad 0 0 fear 0 0 neutral 0 0
:iconalyryianis:
yes.

--
Stop bitching, start a revolution.
:iconazizriandaoxrak:
gorgeous

--
But for three years I had roses, and apologized to no one.
~V for Vendetta

There is a darkness deep in you, a frightening magic i cling to... ~Snow Patrol
:iconolobocanta:
i really dig the "dent the wall with his body' part

i actually am familiar with that feeling...not put in those words, but i know the anger...
:icondreamyimmersion:
S'good.

--
And be all the better for its wonder within me,
A pulsing remorse, a
Dirge, ever sweetened, ever
Gushing from my breath.
:iconcallmebaby:
:+fav:
love.

--
maybe someday i'll stop doubting myself.
:iconprecautions:
I really like this. :+fav:

--
I'm a loser, baby, so why don't you kill me?
My visual art account: ~cyanide-junkie
:icon3x-fast:
yeah, i love this.
this meaning the poem.

--
oh, no!

Details

August 28, 2006
410 bytes

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