and other times I write melodies in my head.
sometimes I kiss my sister goodbye
and other times I simply walk out the door.
I regret each action
mere moments after they unleashed unto the world.
and I cry most frequently in the afternoon,
usually to the tune of midday soaps.
sometimes I sleep with all my makeup on,
so when morning comes,
my colors have all run together
like the constant drip of some rust-ridden faucet.
other times,
I stain my skin with shades of soap
and bleach the day away.
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