#666-670

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Feet together, thighs apart.
The collar bones is where we start.
Count the ribs and feel the hips.
Thats what makes us skinny, bitch.





We kill flowers
because we think they are beautiful.
But we kill ourselves
because we think we're not.







"Talk about it"? haha, no.
No, i prefer to internalize all my problems so they eat away at me from the inside until I'm unable to function in any way.








Can't remember what my personality is supposed to be like
I wish I had written it down.











They day daughters need their mothers,
But what can I do,
My mother is the anger in my words,
The words in my silence.
My mother is the pain in my tears,
The ghost in my smile.
My mother,
Is the hurt in my heart,
The fear in my bones.
My mother,
Is the voice in my head,
That claws at my mind.
My mother,
That is supposed to mould me, build me,
Broke me.

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