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Monday (06/26/2012)

Take another bite at me,
my muscles nice and loose
ten years too sore

Twist me with your worst grin,
make me yours, I dare you
a bite of the apple in my core.

Everyone leaves their mark,
a disfiguring opinion
coming together like scissor blades.

I wasn't born your god damn snowflake,
but I fear I'll die that way
strung up, in holiday parades.

Replace me, darling one,
no shirt ...

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old small apple use me sexual healing

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