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Lines

She walked around
With her sleeves rolled down.
Open to anesthetic air
Her skin porcelain, chipped
She smiled with her eyes,
With her ears.
But her mouth unnaturally
Flipped, reflected, mirrored
Sleeves still open
Folded to the arm
And no one saw
The lines across her skin
Like pink lined paper
How could they not?
It was written on her arms
We don't all have to be...
Lonely



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savetheplanet said...
Dec. 19, 2011 at 12:24 pm
It's beautiful <3
 
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