how much do you have to bleed til you realize you are wounded
a violet sky.
a broken bone.
a drop of blood as crisp as dew
i cant feel you but i know i hurt to touch
how much loving is enough
im never free
i always bleed
you were tough so is it me
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"The soul which has no fixed purpose in life is lost; to be everywhere, is to be nowhere."
-Michel de Montaigne
-Michel de Montaigne