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The day in the life of Stella.
Just poetry and what not that comes to me at random intervals of time when I'm sittin' in my good ole' computer chair.
It's a shame really.
They told me to drop dead.
Of course it bothers me.
I'm not as heartless as they think.
I hate this town and the people in it.
The things they say.
The way they look.
That smell.
And everyday I wake up I see it.
I see that mark I left because of them.
It's such a shame.
I always had skin like a doll.
Smooth and flawless.
This scar refuses to fade.
Unlike it's brothers who've run as time lurched forward.
I want to rip this patch of skin off.
Tear it from my body with my fingers.
Claw at it until it's totally gone.
It's crazy I know, but sometimes I just want to rip myself apart.
Each mark has a story.
Each mark makes me want to rip it from my body.
I'm sure I'm going mad.
It's such a shame.
He always said I was like a doll.
Too bad he's dead.





 
 
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