
I see them in the mirror sometimes,
but with the layers of pounds
I think they can’t dig anymore,
greedy-clawed, hungry,
the bones now underground.
Flesh now, only flesh in my
reflection, older with less
shape. Less angst.

I see them in the mirror sometimes,
but with the layers of pounds
I think they can’t dig anymore,
greedy-clawed, hungry,
the bones now underground.
Flesh now, only flesh in my
reflection, older with less
shape. Less angst.

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