Pretty Broken Things
Pretty Broken Things
In dreams I cut away a piece of your hurt
chew it
Bloody and raw
Pain dripping from my chin
Streams of salty warm copper
The way hurt must taste.
In dreams I stand beside you
Shouldering the weight
Impossible bags of wet sand
Heavy like hurt must be.
In dreams I piss out the fires
Lit by the monsters that follow
People like you
Pretty broken things
Born into golden houses
One day
Forgotten by the sun.
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