Hot, Hot Glue

Plug it in

Breathe in deep

Let it flow

Warm and clear

 

I burn my skin

As I quietly weep

No one will know

Life's end draws near

 

It burns but I grin

They think I am asleep

The number of burns grow

Though fine I do appear

 

I'll end up a has-been

If this is the routine I keep

Searing pain pale skin will undergo

The stinging of my skin, severe

 

On the outside I seem perfectly okay

Keeping the urge to burn at bay

But when I am done talking to you

I'll burn my arms with hot, hot glue

This poem is about: 
Me
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