deepundergroundpoetry.com
Me (In Terms Of You)
A held hand
Holding shards
Of bloody, broken glass
Soft and welcoming
Covered in cuts and wounds
Scar tissue build up
Not longing for stitches
Because the wounds
Are what make you feel
Holding shards
Of bloody, broken glass
Soft and welcoming
Covered in cuts and wounds
Scar tissue build up
Not longing for stitches
Because the wounds
Are what make you feel
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