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The tiny implosions beneath the skin.
The other voice with those other words from that other language —
languishing on the tip of the tongue.
The antisocial butterfly in the spotlight —
fluttering its wings for public eyes.
The crooked smile trying not to tell on its dissatisfied soul.
The homely girl home alone —
followed around by shadows of lonely ghosts.
The insecurities that keep disturbing your peace.
The chaotic crush on that married somebody.
If I tell you a secret — will you tell me your story?
