i’ll wear this shirt for all the studs. one for every bullet through my chest. one for every knife between my ribs. one for every time i’ve cried in the shower, on the highway, under uv. one for every i hate you i’ve hidden in my throat. one for every i love you camouflaged in vomit. one for every emotion i’ve matched a chemical with and lit with a match and ignored.
i’m not finished. one for each of my teeth. one for every line i’ve typed, one still for all the lines i’ve deleted. and the texts. the calls i haven’t made. one for the lies and one for the unfinished fights. one for every yellow bone in the back of my closet.
i’m not finished. i’m trying to stay balanced but i feel i’ve been poisoned. my skin is poked through with the fangs of these studs.
Flaws - Bastille