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Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #1889072
Scar tissue reveals the secret torture of paid perfection and plastic beauty.
Plastic lips feast upon a silicon breast.
Tonight, no one is able to find their rest.
The shadow of the past smiles upon the staples.
She has been wallowing in her self-worth,
Which now feels less than a mound of earth.
The incision cuts deeper into the tissue.
She has been walking on her knees, hoping to find
Someway to leave the inner disgust far behind.
It gets worse every time, but she cannot stop.
The shadow penetrates her deeper than she can stand.
He is bored and no longer cares if he has a steady hand.
She is screaming in orgasmic fear.
The shadow is inside of her and is squirming around.
She must take all of his lust without a defiant sound.
This is what she has paid for, pain and disfigurement.
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