Somewhere in this smoke-filled room
lies my heart's split ends,
with its empty memories,
wounds waiting to be salted,
these trinkets I hold,
so powerful,
so deep,
undone they come pouring
for all the world to see.
lies my heart's split ends,
with its empty memories,
wounds waiting to be salted,
these trinkets I hold,
so powerful,
so deep,
undone they come pouring
for all the world to see.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
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