grab me tight

pick me out of your box of bento
that’s what I’m here for/ to be touched/ and don’t feel guilt/  hasn’t crossed your mind though/ sometimes I think about you and feel sad/ so I started a literature club in your honor/ and one by one we trickle out/ guess it should be called the suicide club/ but that’s already been taken/ by fake characters/ like me and you/ and there are lines on the ceiling
but I keep looking for gold.

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