My pixel princess
danced across the reflection of my heart
Like a shadow in the
darkest moment of the day.
Still beating like a
depressed father, beating,
with sewn stitches
parting in my quilted skin…
mom didn’t stitch me
right.
My LCD lover hates it
when I cry.
playback of a
monotonous life on repeat
…and other screens
with cracks inside my soul.
Leaking colors that
drip down in gray
coating my ashy fate.
This isn’t about you.
Pixelated princess, don’t
talk miles…
Construct a key with
words that might unlock this prison cell
And free my mind for
a couple slow seconds.
This isn’t about you.
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