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Messy Thoughts
I paint myself in colors-black, red, blue
I often think about what it would be like if I was an angel,
My thoughts are a maze of gossamer threads that fail to connect
Nobody told me there would be days like this, nobody has ever told me how a book is better than therapy, how dreams are a reflection of your soul.
I drown myself in ink and paper, my intangible thoughts wrap themselves in my wrists.
Perhaps there are people out there who can make me feel like honey
I wouldn’t know, I haven’t found them yet.

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