We are all broken.
We cut ourselves on each other's ragged edges.
It bleeds us. Draws out some of the poison.
The wounds fester and seep, break open to show the fragile red we hide inside.
It scars us, but we don't mind.
We hide
behind the ugliness, safely shielded by twisted puckers that whorl and deceive.
We wait
for a soft hand to
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