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| cigarettes and broken glass by viewfinder |
I have learned to walk on broken glass
how to step lightly and quietly
I no longer cry out
when the pieces slice my feet
Shhh
Quiet now
I use the blood to paint
my nails a happy crimson for you
Watch me dance on
the shards
How useful are the scars
I can pirouette
as slivers burrow
into my toes
