chitter chatter i’ve no part of and a mainstream bearing no inclusivity to my name. there where the paint hides flaws i find solace, side-skipping the shallower crevices into which my eyes won’t get lost. appearances are a thing so it makes sense now why certain fabrics scratched my skin. i hated layers but hated even more the peeling of self. downward glances and shut out all that other stuff like you’ll grow up and out of it one day. what if you don’t grow up and out of it one day? what if you find yourself at a table without inquiry or care of your latest digressions and the smile carried is like freight lost of its port. valuable riches never delivered. sometimes one must question if one will ever be a want. wall upon countless wall has been left wet with my dripping expression and for once i wish there’d be a handprint left in the paint.
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