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i am drawing secret patterns on the clothes i wear to protect me from the nasty things that go unsaid when i can't sleep. i am taking obscene pictures of the quiet parts of my body and i won't show them to nobody. they are only for me. and i can't say a single word about my troubles. i go mad out on my own. things are either turn tasteless or turn to stone. wondering round wandering bone, i go mad out on my own. and i can't say a simple word about my troubles.
