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I pressed my head against the marble, seemingly admiring the architecture of the glass building that my own body lacked. My head was perpendicular to my neck. There was no natural arch of my spine--my back forced flat. My limbs, like fallen columns, spilt over the bench exhausted from the stand. Fingernails of a nasty copper green, reeked of deluge. My windows however, drapeless and wide-eyed, were alive. Focused on my foundation--hating my own womb.

Created: Jan 01, 2012

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