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She was an average girl.

Now she’s getting colder,

she thought someone had told her

this is love;

you choke it down, throw it up.

Oh, miss believer,

your shaking shoulders prove that it’s colder

inside “I love you,”

but together we go

roam the city.

This night is

a permanent slumber

of broken memories.

We’re damaged,


we choose



(Subtractive poem created by writing out song lyrics and then removing words to create a poem. I do not own any of the song lyrics used. Photo courtesy of Google Images.)

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