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final self-portrait. [freewrite #6]

my neck, bruised and purple
is in stark contrast with the rope
so pristine in its innocence
I always was good at corrupting.

you always loved my eyes
rimmed with blue, you said
because you knew I hated my green
I doubt they're either now... bulging like this.

I never was a dancer
but now I spin so prettily
you said I paint you flawless.
this is how I paint myself.

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