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Your Cynical Peace Offering

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i am a scar
yet prominent and

a story,
an effect of
pain so numb
it demands to be felt.

i am a scar,
you’ll look at me
one day and truly see

how this haggard
surreal reality
has crushed my
identity, and formed me

i am hot clay
causing blisters on your hands
twisted and prodded into something
conforming to your
idea of lovely

a black flower,
that you give to others.

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