deepundergroundpoetry.com
Getting rid of the stitches
I discard every scratching rag
for your lies were stitched within.
I'll bathe in the fresh
and wash with the pure
just to force you from my depths.
I sleep alone, wrapped in dreams
allowing you to sew in me.
When the morning wakes me
with familiar strokes
I must shed our old skin.
for your lies were stitched within.
I'll bathe in the fresh
and wash with the pure
just to force you from my depths.
I sleep alone, wrapped in dreams
allowing you to sew in me.
When the morning wakes me
with familiar strokes
I must shed our old skin.
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