he doesn't know what to tell me
how immature
how sad my smile
how trouble seems to follow me
in waves
when i say how i'm doing fine.
and i am
when i've stamped the
suicidal screams to
faint whispers,
when i cease to mutilate
my arms
you're beautiful,
he says, why you date
the guys you date...
and i'm thinking how i'd
much rather date
no guys at all
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