I tend to put myself into Archetypes,
but rarely wear them for more than a few days.
There is something within all of these versions, that is still me,
and she is the poison that always stays.
Even if I push her to the side—she sees me and
comes crashing in.
It is in that moment I enter my manic realm, where I relish in this vindication—
when she leaves I am left sitting in the road, wondering how I hurt her so bad.
I remember all the ways I have been wronged—
with no closure or glamour.
I tend to put myself into Archetypes,
Depending on a thousand things.
Yet there is always that one soul that will see every face I create,
And in this vulnerability they find something they hate.
I am starting to believe that is why no one ever stays.
I tend to put myself into Archetypes,
To Eat the pain I was gifted,
though none of it was ever a pleasure.
I once met a boy that found pleasure in my pain,
really, he choked me until my face became blue.
But at the time I found fun in it too.
I once found a lover that savored pain as much as me,
we had been a perfect match. sexually speaking.
And then I saw what my desire was hiding—
This is one of my archetypes:
Desire. With a crescendo of escapism.
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