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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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