I am jealous of books,
the stories that have been created from beautiful minds,
but they tear me apart inside.
I'm jealous of every broken character who finds their place,
their person,
their home,
because why can someone as broken as me find everything in a few hundred pages,
and in those few hundred pages I lose myself a little more,
to the lives I envy,
to the lives I will never live,
but desperately try to.
I want to engrave the pages into my skin,
tattoo myself into being something so meaningful,
carve the words on my body that will make people see me,
becoming the art that makes people want to live.
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