Sad Labels:
suicide
,
time travel
,
violence
,
weakness
surface scratches. the blunt of gravity. as it begs the difference between fall and jump. the stagger is people. in her head. loud enough. even with the storm. the manic rain. the calm thunder.
her lips pencil marks. her eyes permanent marker. the awkward fairy tales of flesh begin to color in her outlines. each choice another pin prick. in a world deflated.
she choose her ogres carefully. the world inside a box. alive until someone opens the lid. the stutter of claws across existing scars. quiet and incomplete. the tender of marrow purchases her patience from dirty bandages.
she listens for the whisper of the darkness. and is shocked when it screams.
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