"When we can no longer dream, we die" -Emma Goldman

Monday, February 22, 2010

Tiffany Boxes filled with lies.

Pretty little lies, wrapped up in satin bows
dropped on doorsteps, filled with crap.
This is the legacy and this is the truth.
Lies that taste like arsenic and lipstick
filled with glitter and dust
set to explode when the light turns green.
And they're off, destroying with their pretty little stilettos.

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