July 26, 2011
In these geometric fields of perceived perfection, I find ounces of your slain spirit splattered in distinctive splotches that, when I look from afar, it all meshes together into one huge stain, a stain your failures had made on the world, because you never measured up to what you’d thought you be.
And sadly, I bury myself into the folds of your fragmented ideals, because I wish you would learn, how truly amazing you are.

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