Conversation FilthMature

Nails, cracked varnish to hide the grime,

Scar my face,

That it is stained with the filth,

Of your trashy conversation,

The only things that humans readily share,

Is our illness and diseases,

If we are cursed, we feel it is our duty,

To contaminate everyone else,

Like rats and fleas,

We bite and poison,

With just the words we speak,

Talk tainted by the rotting heaps,

Of false- truths and half-truths,

And not-even-a-grain-of-truths,

Contents that would scar beyond repair,

Breaking and bruising layers of skin,

Healing it over in dirty scabs,

And the cracking nails continue,

To tear me apart layer by layer,

Welt, bruise, scar, peel,

Please tell me this reality isn't real???

The End

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