let's define 'wrong' by the number of scars
the number of stars--
wouldn't you touch the constellations if you could?
inky black soft velvet sky. places of brilliance. trace them into patterns you find. such softness.
connect the dots, each pattern a private picture, each brilliance a burst of joy.
there are, you know, reasons we can't touch.
you don't yet know when you're young, when it's fun
oh, oh mum,
what have you done?
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