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Mister

He is my religion.
Will you prick my finger and suck the pain away?

I thought I buried you deep within my head but you clawed your way back in.

You are the stigmata on my hands.

You are the scarlet letter dripping wax on my chest.

I can taste my regrets on your lips.

Singing about valentines and frankensteins you curl me around your fingers.

Undo your belt and make me quiver.

I want to be your ache.
 
I have spent many years repenting but will you answer my prayers?

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