A silver half moon cuts through me,Pale as paper,Im white as a ghost.
I lost all control that night,Silver sliver in hand,It felt so right.But stung right after.
I am my own destruction.Decomposing right before my very eye,All the clever lies I made to cover up the truth.
I wish you thought me good enough.That I was worth of being your friend.You're the best kind of toxic.The subtle kind.
The kind that kisses you gently,And makes you tea,While stomping on your sanity.
I wish I wasn't brokenBecause im in the island of misfit toys,And even they don't like me.
Maybe I can carve away my imperfections.
Burn them with petty starlight.All the while creating a new scar.-H.B
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