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:iconfoundinthought:foundinthought posted a status
Pitch black, pale blue,
It was a stained glass
Variation of the truth
And I felt empty handed.

You let me set sail
With cheap wood.
So I patched up
Every leak that I could,
'Til the blame grew too heavy.

Stitch by stitch I tear apart.
If brokenness is a form of art,
I must be a poster child prodigy.
Thread by thread I come apart.
If brokenness is a work of art,
Surely this must be my masterpiece.

-Sleeping At Last

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