You are the mirror of my worst
Show me what I look like, to your face
But once we face each other
I can’t fight you, for you
You’ll need to slice knuckles on glass to get to me
And prove that dead men do bleed after all
Once there is blood
You’ll bleed the most
If you refuse to heal
If you retreat into solitariness with your angst and shame
Instead of meeting together in our tears
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