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if it asks pleasure first

While nothing else behaves like it should, 
especially myself, the answers seem as shy as the thoughts
that plague the bright mind. 
Nothing but a little shimmer of her lips. 
Nothing have taken me so high and sunk me to such lows. 
Except a little blue one. 
Crystals n' shapes - crushed and bottled up inside, 
flooding the borders and smashing against the back of 
my throat. 
A single white one, longer and longer. 
A world gone to bubbly pink and innocent white. 
A pale grey on early mornings and yet a pitch black
on the brightest days. 

Look at it smile. 
Look at it dance. 
Look at it sing it's song. 
Would you believe a stuffed wooden boy
swearing in whispers that everything he tells you
is truth? 

I've forgotten my skin and now I don't dream anymore. 


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