Ima Jerk,
I'll admit it,
I see a problem
I have to pick it.
Like bad acne,
or scabs,
or loose fingernails.
I burn my bridges,
and scratch old itches.
Add fuel to the fire,
I'll admit, I'm a liar.
A terrible girl,
without much conscience.
If I had one,
it'd make me naseous.
My nails are painted black
from shadows of arguements
(gotta log, finish later)
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