Robot Girl
Do you ever think that sometimesIf you ripped off my skin
To try and see in
Try to understand
You would find something morbidly sweet
Such as--
A mass of veins like blue wires
My cold ribs polished and smelling like ammonia?
If you're going to collect me
To capture in a photograph
And frame with construction paper--
Could you be so kind as to scribble out my face?
Because I don't think I'm ready
For everyone to see me
Not yet.
Poetry by Inked.
Read 946 times
Written on 2005-08-01 at 16:03
Tags Sadness 
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