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Treat Me Like A Misconception
by
Istasha
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Let you talk enough to cover slips I slip right out of walking with a piece of rubber string upon your belly b***on Then you part from all the possible apostle feels and bring a f**ker back to feed on arson dust and gravel meals Temperature entry Flood my gills with orphan waters Tempting eventually to cut these strings that I've been stuck in See shapes like Botox Detox Stillborn Birth rock Talking with a black box
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