fuck me...



scars
April 10th 2002.



-Scars-

These people talk and talk and I do not understand a word anyone is saying. Blah Blitty Blah Blah! Funny? NO! Smart? NO! So just shut up already. �X-1+6� Huh? �X� can go fuck itself. People go on leading their simpleton lives, oblivious that their very words, the very things they take for granted, can cut our hearts open like a shard of glass. Leaving behind vivid memories along with puss-filled scars. Blistering boils of pain and discrimination. My body is pink with scars that are forever fresh, never dissolving into the skin. Their eyes are not pained enough to see these scars. Their hearts are not willing enough to help us. So we all say, all we have is each other. But when was the last time that you stopped one of them from ruining our hearts, spoiling them, making them rotten beyond recognition, sending our souls to where not even our bothers can reach them? I never have, because I too have been rotted, and I laugh because the very people I hate, are the only people I love, despite my aching scars.



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