Turning into Porcelion
Sitting all alone
Thinking of him
Jealous of her
She is everything
That I long to be
Running through my
Mind how to make
Myself perfect
How to be his
Weight stops to drop
Small lines of control
Start to form on my ankles
Emotions run far past the
Point of a numb escape
But soon enough
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poem by Victoria Roy
Added by Poetry Lover
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