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It is extremely difficult to break you open. Prying, peeling, pulling, plastic parts. Where to do it. You eagerly tear at my stockings.
Lambs thrown to lions not yet taught how to run-- stumble and yelp with hopes set to the sun.
'Tis a Lethean shore Written upon a writhing worm --- A half-winged bedight seraph of yore Coos, in a butterfly's term, Amidst a nebulous crowd, hearing
I hold my words silently, but you've no idea how much I want to blast them within your ears,-
Through all of the tears and hatered; Through all of the scars and hurtful words; I've never met someone who seemed so sure. I let you in and told you my secrets. But day by day things kept getting worse.
Some secrets are best kept quiet But I can hear the lies through the silence You make eye contact with me while pushing away Your eyes darken as you press me to say, "Oh darling, I love you, I swear it to be true!"