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It all just seems so fake. This idea that good things happen to good people and there's magic in the world, and that the meek and the righteous will inherit it.
Use me. Cut me. How would you like me served Bloody and raw or cooked to perfection The leg, the heart, which section.
Seal it. Stick a pin in, Freeze the tears for a rainy day. Post-it notes and worn fridge magnets, Hold your memories, boxed up fragments, Of reality's fights and foreplay.
We met in sugar season, my door-to-door candycane, Sugarplum dreamers, will it ever be the same. We left the candyfloss, double whipped lollipops, Back to reality and there my tears were lemondrops.
I'm sorry for the sleepless nights, the turns and piercing screams. I'm sorry for the banishment and limiting of your dreams.
Break me down, scream your curses, smash down your scaffolding. Punch at the glass, let he mirror cave in.
Mirror, mirror on the wall. Tell me why coffee cream lips seem to quiver where once a cherry blossom bloomed and curved. Where did she go?.
Bitter bond. Your face, a mirror on the wall, Stalking me. Observing me. You lace your paws in my hair, along the labyrinths on my face. You smile. You frown. 'You look nice'. What is nice.
Tear me, rip me, slash me with those bloody threats, Like brittle knives, fangs grind and chew on newly cut wounds Bruise me, slap me, engulf me with your words, For I will get back up and take your...