m i r r o r

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god it's good

to feel the burn in your lungs after your third cigarette

to feel the scrapes and cuts on your knees

to feel your eyes stinging again

you know,

i can't be too sure about anything else than that you looked at me

did you recognize this shell of a dead man?

a man emptier than my stomach and fragile as paper

(though paper will cut you deep if you handle it wrong and so will i)

it's kinda fucked up when looking in a mirror fucks you up

the realization of not knowing if this face is mine

and not remembering the color of my own eyes




don't know who you are?

smash the mirror and it won't matter

i promise to kiss your glass-sharp bloody knuckles after

say if it hurts too much but don't ask me to quit

the pain is tolerable enough to enjoy for a bit

reflecting pieces in the sink won't make up a clear picture

and thank god for that,

cause a heart and a brain will never match



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