Maybe that what love has to feel like for me:
Always pulling my guts through a meat grinder
while I have to keep laughing,
and hold myself back,
drinking my poison,
to not die of embarrassment
for who I am
and for who I am not.
Maybe that what love has to feel like for me:
Always pulling my guts through a meat grinder
while I have to keep laughing,
and hold myself back,
drinking my poison,
to not die of embarrassment
for who I am
and for who I am not.
Well written.
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