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Looking Beyond the Faces

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Looking beyond these faces crowding the hall, sometimes is worth the time.
There's people that glare at my dark makeup and black style.
People that don't look.
And people who smile.

I look beyond these faces, there masks that disquise their heartbreak, hope, fears, co-dependency.

I laugh as they mock me, for having "no style"
Style is a word used to describe ones self through art, clothes, music, ect...

I laugh because they use other peoples' creations to describe themselves.

Saying things like, "This is my song," Means that they created it. But they didn't.

Walking into the bathroom, it's easy to see the homicidal suicide rape it's way through the walls. The sharpie spreads it's venom through the cracks, creating viscious words.

If they never wanted us to use these words, why do they create them?

Once you leave and open your eyes, you can see the "word rape" as I call it, spread through the halls, peircing their hearts.
They'll hide there screams until the last moment. Then they'll crack.

Leaving forgiveness in their path.

Undeserved forgiveness, for those who trespassed into her heart where they weren't welcome.




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