I romanticise the fall Maybe I must crash And run my face across the pavement I need to hear What crosses my mind Before my mind splatters open To let the little scorpions crawl away I romanticise the
//TW: GORE// I can feel the growing child in my throat Deformed and desiccated Kicking my wind pipes and robbing my breath Made from the sins of my mothers empty words It grows and grows its limbs sha
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