artistic death
i know that i have died.
but, mother, look at the bright side.
i am now a beautiful piece of art.
perhaps, you do not see this beauty of mine.
my beauty is dangerous.
a danger to myself.
lying dead on the floor.
flies covering my body.
the ugliness in this sight is truly beautiful.
but you don’t see it, no one does.
perhaps, i am the only one who can see this beauty. i am not me, and i don’t want to be her.
at least i don’t think i do.
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