Graffiti 

I’m sick of writing about how other people make me feel 

Like they have a hold over my head and heart and worst of all my words

They ruin me in prospect of becoming a page or a line 

They spew lines of romance to manipulate my border 

They charm their way over my wall 

To steal my time and my body away from me without remorse 

Now I know every kiss is a lie 

And every line is a guess at a password 

They want to crawl under my skin and under my covers, to leave scars of distrust 

Sticking to my words and memory 

Dark though it may be 

They want to see if they can smudge their way into my world 

The vanity of I was here carved into my heart 

The sick pride of receiving a line in my book

Dedicated to the hurt that they caused 

My scars and words are then not my own 

But graffiti from the ones I’d rather forget

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