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whispered, like a secret
I want to be soft and held and loved and at the same time
I think if anyone dared to hold me gently I would break
Like that goo that only holds up under pressure
I can’t exist without the tension in my spine keeping me upright
Hate me and it’s all the same
Love me and I’m lost
Treat me like something that could break and I will
So quickly
So much
(Don’t and I still will—but cracks under pressure are expected
familiar
inevitable—)
​
My walls are so tall but so thin
-GZ
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