The first page was despair and pain to be forgotten,
so you turned it and cheered up my days.
With stickiness and wine and too many options
I discovered in even more ways.
When later you confused me and pushed me away,
I felt like the child that you saw.
But I must have touched you right under your skin
and you continued to leave mine raw.
So I'll wear the coins on my back like battle scars
of a fight you're oblivious to.
It rains in my head, but like the book we once read,
the story might not even be true.
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