I've broken many nails over you
that I've not bothered to fix
because you wouldn't notice
if I did
and
I'd love to see that smile of
yours, the one that spoke: new kid, new toy
but it's gone
and telling me the truth isn't
the answer
and showing me you scars
makes me wonder why I stay
in this spiraling manic depression
I ask myself
door one or two?
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