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[-4-]
May 7, 2005 18:26:02 GMT -5
Post by .B.e.c.c.a.<3 on May 7, 2005 18:26:02 GMT -5
"We're going out tonight", you told me I was hoping you wouldn't say that you treat me like your Barbie doll dressing me as you wish showing me off to all your friends but at the end of the night, you throw me in my box again You make me wear a corset of thorns To keep a perfect figure A blood red dress to hide the stains it hurts to breath You embrace me tightly the throns don't cut you, why? they push into my stomach making a pool at the floor You laugh at the sight of my mouth twisted in pure agony I try to sit down I need to sleep but you pull me back up "No sleeping yet, My Dear." you take me by the hand and lead me to our carriage I'm trying to hear what you are saying to the driver but I'm already so far awat In the midst of my tears and my pounding headache I thought I heard you say, "I love You"
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[-4-]
Jul 2, 2005 11:25:16 GMT -5
Post by Mr. Hendrickson™ on Jul 2, 2005 11:25:16 GMT -5
I like this poem, a corset of thorns. This just says basically to me that most men look for that barbie doll and when they have this so called perfection they try to preserve it and they will do anything to keep it.
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