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Chapter Twelve

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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