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I was made from mismatched pieces,
God's leftovers,
A warrior's heart,
And a dreamer's mind
And a gentle soul
And a chaotic existence.
Then they shoved me in this tiny little useless body, and sent me into battle.
Without ever teaching me to fight,
Or bothering with armour.
—I was never meant to survive, was I?
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I'm don't think I'm a person,
Anymore.
I'm likely just a place
For daydreams to rest before
Finding someplace better now.
But is that something to mourn when I never truly knew,
What being human felt like...
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I was raised to gobble on harsh words only,
My food pipe has stretched to swallow slanders,
My stomach has a special kind of acid to melt metal;
And my intestines are meant to grind any remaining matter to fine dust.
How to deal with kind words?
Of that, I have no idea.
Are they supposed to loll in my mouth like caramel candy
Or melt like chocolate?
Will the honey sting if it touches my bleeding tongue?
It will be lost between the blood and spit before reaching my stomach anyway.
—Be gentle with me please.
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If you're looking to like me,
Don't go looking under my skin.
There are stories there that even I have forgotten I buried.
I'm made of molecules old as this universe, and Sometimes under my skin; it shows.
There exist hidden acloves you may never find your your way back.
And some black holes that stare back at you.
Be safe in my heart instead,
Where the carefully curated kindness and empathy and sunshine personality is kept.
Under my skin is where I store the behind the scenes stuff;
The scars and the traumas.
But if you're looking to love me;
Well, enter at your own risk.
—i just hope I don't disappoint.
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they aren't loving because if they were a loving god I wouldn't be so cold and rude.