To everyone in the room, she seemed like just a normal girl wearing Vans, blue jeans, and a red hoodie. No one knew how her fingers still fumbled when applying eyeliner and lipstick. Or the struggles she had endured to finally match her body to her soul. ...
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Go away, fuck off, back to your bunker.It has no title,but understanding is vital.Stop.Here’s the poem: I saw somebody.She was beautiful.An energy that didn’t fit,yet she owned it. I found outshe likes to twist and shout.But does she like ...? Her polar i...