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Don't. For a moment. Worry about me. My strength is powerful. To an almost disgusting. Nuclear extreme. When broken long ago, my pieces mutated joints. Whole am I, in their ever shifting malleability. Never the same. Always changing. Writing and re-writing myself. Rearranging. He questions me. My feelings. He thinks I don't posses. But I hid from him the dealings of the demons in my chest. I shield him from those horrors. My stony face a lie. I protect him from those borders. Because he simply. Won't. Survive.
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