I don't want to waste paper
just like I wasted your time
by pretending I need it
and by ending with a heartbroken, dissonant rhyme.
I'll lock my emotions away
in barrels like toxic waste.
With a hole, it leaks slowly,
churns to make adhesive paste:
The paste that holds me together
through this terrible ordeal.
When misunderstanding is over,
purity I will then feel,
because sadness is a toxin.
The barrels I'll defecate.
I'll wash my hands and air dry.
With them, a poem I'll create
on the back of a receipt
and I won't need a stapler
for I'll use adhesive notes;
I don't want to waste paper













Comments
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cherry blossoms are more beatiful when the blood of the dead, stains the flowers from graves below and also check out my site on rosebleed.org i'm bloodlust
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