Empty
but full of sorrow
a living contradiction
she exsist to be perfect
driving out inperfection
with a thrust of a finger
until the flaws stream foward
with a river of tears
and she sings her victory
between gags and gasps
as she leans over the toilet
and with a simple flush
all sins are forgotten
and once again can she face the world
as a perfect being
a little thinsipration to thoes
a little less perfect than her |
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