deepundergroundpoetry.com
Stitched apart/thrown together
As we stand togather in the mirror i can tell our scars apart... Apart is what we are, to be stitched apart and thrown togather is this why you cry for the sins of your own decent and lovely voice thus the wronging of yourself and the shirt you made me is so torn with my soul on it's sleave I see you In my reflection into the past and the future is black as your soul...
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