I don't know where this came from.

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Use me, abuse me, treat me like shit.
Hit me again, bust up my lip.
Tell me a lie on the lips I used to kiss.
Tell me goodbye, this time use your fist.
My skin is a canvass and your hands leave pastel colors.
The sound of the contact echoes like thunder.
Push me away, forget about me.
I've finally realized, it's time for me to leave.
I don't know if I will, I don't know if I can.
I'll never forget the feel of your calloused hands.

One day, I'll paint a picture,
a picture of us.
You will be my canvass,and my paintbrush,
a gun.

01/31/17

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