There’s blisters on my eyes from seeing what I’ve seen
and I can’t put my bloody fingers on the wound, I mean
I know it’s there, this bruised spirit patch of land
that makes my dry fingers try to leave my hand
What a mistake, I sometimes think, to be born here
on such an isle that makes pain its art, ahh, mourn dear
Just a passing thought. I am so in love with your eyes
even blackened by the boy you love, swollen with lies
Fuck. I just wish it was easier sometimes but then, I guess,
there’d be no story, or worse, no lesson. We chose this mess
<3
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