I’m your fly away muse
The light bulb in your dark
You’re my voice in the silence
The moon to my stars
But is the pain worth the art?
The broken bones
Bruises on the soul
Just another slit of the knife
And baby you’re all mine
I’m your Sylvia Plath
And you’re my ted Hughes
But should this end?
Or continue to inspire?
For years to come
Madness for beauty
Even if it ends with my head in an oven?
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