Natalie Tolstoy

from by Grower

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I force the silence. I keep my distance. I hold your stare in my dreams, but I'll bite my tongue till it bleeds. Your fragile pride trapped behind these walls, hopelessly grasping at titles you ain't earned at all. Pursed lips and condescension won't restore your past. You're not your past. You're not your title. You're not the image in your head. You won't find company in all the shit that you save while your used up body rots in a grave. So take comfort in all the shit you own, because we all die and when we do we die alone. You are the words you leave behind.

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from Hazel, released September 2, 2015

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