They said pillow talk was bad for the soul. The pain made them stagger and would take its toll. They studied me closely as I studied their brilliance. I was scolded for trying to discover the secret. Hesitant, I kept my questions inside. It was hurting far worse than they could hide. The cutter denied my healing request. When I learned the secret, the deal was severed. Im often greeted with brief disagreement. Could tear my eyes away only at night. I noticed they had scars that riddled their arms when the moon disappeared. Rustling my fingers through my hair. My head hurts so bad, this pain isn't fair. A horrible itch, that I can't resist. Disappointed in whats not there. Their fleeting secrets are hollow and bare. When I see their scarred up bodies I laugh at the pain that those scars embody. My head hurts so bad, this pain isn't fair.
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