I clawed at my mask for years, leaving scars and thoughts of peeling it off, and finding nothing but this bare skull. Dripping blood, trying desperately to keep muscle and tissue in tact, but I'd tear it all away. Just so I could take this picture to wake up to and be reminded that I once had a face before my violence got to it
But still no one can see us, we're cloaked in vulnerability. Shoving good intentions down the throats of ill-intent
Smother the hate and hate the hatred
I choked my unhappiness until it turned blue and I smiled and thought "why hadn't I been violent towards my violence all along"
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