Incise the cries of lies
on the sides of my heart.
If I’m the object of your
affections means I’m art.
I was ugly damn scared
in a vicious cycle of pain.
I was an empty vessel
no joy could I contain.
Then your cries reached
my torture and I fell
deep in passions grip
tearing me from hell.
Desperate for fancy,
more for a partner in crime,
I wish beauty reaches me
before death if it’s by design.
RMC 
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