Justyne

Like a little lost b*tch
You wander around, doe-eyed
Caught in headlights
Forever screeching in our heads,
I'm not, I'm not,
I never will be.
Your broken charm deceives us
As you strike the sword into
Your own flesh.
Who are you convincing, princess,
With your pallid imitations?
You, returning ghost
Of everything that died before.
A slip of the tongue
And you lose everything
Addicted gambler that you are,
You are.
And you know we know you.
That age-old hypnotism suspends our disbelief
Witchy storyteller,
Gypsy,
Eventually beliefs crash to the ground once more.
Can you get up again?

The End

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