Feel my edges,

Reach, breach and bend.

Manipulated,

Banged into place

by the Blacksmith.

-

Artsist at finding

my jugular

and launching -

with the Right

look in my eye.

-

Let the edges

Fray and

Melt away .

Washed up and

Washed out.

-

Rouge clinging

to the

Shallow Dimples.

Not opposed

to the idea of

No Existence.

-

“Help!”

Does not always

Escape

the way it shoud.

I lack the courage

to let it be

The Full Stop.

-

Twist, Beat, Repeat

The slur

I know makes

your stomach

clench.

-

In my mind,

i’m in number

34

silent, immobile

just pain.

18 and

no idea how to feel.

-

Feel the pattern,

hold it in your

Palms,

Like icy water

from a hot

tap.

-

Splash it

on your face

for good measure.

Take a long look —

This is your life.

Hello, my name is Emma and I like drawing, laughing and telling stories.

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