by Krutarth Patel
I was fragile as a violin
My heart strings bled out a song
Soft delicate passages and four string ballets
But instead of a bow,
You played me with a knife
Until My fragile figure snapped,
Bleeding out every song I had ever known.
Blood is not glue,
Blood is NOT glue,
Blood. Is. Not. Glue.
Pain does not repair
and the second I cracked you were nowhere to be found
fortunately they don't play our type of song on the radio
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