Tuesday, October 21, 2014

My Body Is Not Your Temple By Bo-Edward Lawrence


"Lips that conceive lies,
With a breath that reeks of regret.
Makes me realize why your teeth shows gaps of faith and crooked promises and hopes.
Your a mouthful of pessimism 
That makes me choke !
My chest and ribs become compressed because my stomach can't understand or process 
that you ain't shit but a thigh away from being alone, 
A leg away from depression, 
And a toe away from death"



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