Sharp lines, and an even sharper mind
With words so legit you slit your own wrist thick
Quick wit'll leave you drowning in a pool of your own blood and black ink.
I slice the paper with a lead razor blade
Leaving inch-long wounds profusely pouring paradoxes
Punctuated only by the imprint on your psyche.
I pour my quintessence into the cold steel, leaving
personified lacerations in your metaphorical skin.














Comments
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"There's only one thing two do, three words four you. I love you. There's only one way two say those three words and that's what I'll do."
"1234, I Love You"
By: Plain White T's
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