Minor inflictions
Not deep purple bruises
Or gushing wounds
Mere scratches
That you mayn't even notice
Until the lime you cut
For a sambol
Stings
Minor inflictions, we tell ourselves
Don't matter
Won't leave a scar
Guilty pleasures, these are
We wouldn't even admit
But it's true, isn't
Guilty of it, I am
Just as you are
Look at us,
Hurting each other
For some fleeting pleasure
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