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You can polish yourself until the day you die, but you’ll still be defective.

I’m not ashamed of the things I’ve done
and I won’t break, I’m not one of the chosen ones.
I’m not afraid of who I am, inside I’m human
inside blood runs through my veins, pure, not intoxicating.
It’s not a virus inside me lying in wait to attach itself to another being
inside, I’m free
free to see my blood breathe.

Categories: Poetry
Tags: #Life

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