ugly;

July 21, 2011
I comb back my thick, stringy hair from my face, wondering when the blood had gotten into it, when it had suddenly become so heavy.
And then I stare at myself in the mirror, because I think to myself, maybe I should try this again.
My lips are split open, and my skin is yellow and paper-thin. My eyes have sunken into the crevices of my jutting skull, and those dark rings under my eyes, they look like years-old bruises, and then I can’t help but laugh, because that’s quite close to the truth.
The webbed crimson in my eyes tell of the veins that have burst apart there, and then as I start to wash the pitiful filth off my hands, I think, I’ve turned into such a wonderful vessel of disappointment.





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. said...
Feb. 23, 2013 at 3:15 pm
Wow, your writings are so beautiful and meaningful. I absolutley love it! Keep up the amazing work!!
 
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