Tuesday, October 11, 2016

Entitled

It's came too early to me, like a puddle under the table, grief that you poured into me or attribution that is foreign. Once more you're putting a stick into me then you're grinding my insides. Sometimes I hold my stomach, sometimes i hold my intenstines and sometimes I think that its too much of a price for a misunderstanding.

You're adding a tone to my voice and I wonder if I'm able to understand what I'm saying. You're saying or we're saying.
There was brightness in one of my limbs but then the pain started growing like a tumor. We don't know each other and I still think it's too much of a price for what you're trying to make me bear.

You're heading for a run, then for a cleanse in my waters; just to be able to form full statements about me but I still think it's too much of a price for this unwanted connection.

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