Honey - Chapter Twelve - Glass Hands
A bite of the cake,
Creamy with the vanilla icing.
It doesn't paste my mouth like dry cardboard,
As I sit in front of my computer,
Netflix playing in one tab,
My writing open in the other,
Wishing someone would read with a whole heart,
What I have crafted,
With hands that are made of glass,
Because the writing is sharp, spiky,
And I don't want to lose my hands.
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