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~magic box~ an emo poem
Current mood:
drained
we r ghosts passing thru our own walls.
we live our lives inside the magic box-- telling us that we are liked and good-- that everything will be alright.
i don't know how to talk to humans anymore.
i want the soles of my feet to hurt from rocks. i want to choke on sand. i want to be alive even when it hurts.
i am scared that if i cry that no-one will listen.
when will i learn that my heartbeat is in fact real? that it rolls just like the thunder, or like a water rock along the mud?
when will i learn that even living things are dead-- that there are little dead things floating around in all of us
i think about this every day as if to motivate me to continue being wholly alive
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