I am the tin man.

I feel like a destitute protitute.

There is nothing inside anymore.

I am an apathetic whore.

The tiny pink pills drained away my personality.

And without that, what is left of me?

I am a shell of a girl bound to hell.

I'm falling apart.

I am the tin man.

I have no heart.

All I have left is my art.

And my poetry.

The tiny pink pills deleted the rest of me.

I don't know who I am anymore.






Author's Notes/Comments: 

That don't rhyme.
Drats.

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