April 11, 2010
By , North Huntingdon, PA
Blinded by my own insolence,
Writhing in my own faults,
Memories plaguing me,
Pain in red spots.
And I did this to myself,
I could say it hurts so good,
Pain is beauty takes on a whole new meaning,
As I lay here in my shell.
Ceiling stars and plastic,
No sky to be seen,
The needle goes in,
And the photo snaps.
In this world of smoke and mirrors,
Who’s really watching, anyway?

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