the gardener dug up the flowerbeds and replaced them with plastic trees

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THE GARDENER DUG UP THE FLOWERBEDS AND REPLACED THEM WITH PLASTIC TREES

my teeth are like thorns that i cut myself on when i try to speak and these roses blossoming in my lungs are growing and growing and i have no space left as they slither up my throat and the petals stuff my mouth with forced smiles and glaze my eyes with purple rain tears as i say thank you. and once i fell into a rosebush and its teeth gnawed the skin off my fruit flesh and i stand bloody and bare before the people that refuse to understand that my wounds are deep, and i have become accustomed to these teethmarks so if you take away my pain you take away a part of me. you'll have to rip these roots out of their ground between my ribs and trim the thorns in my mouth so i won't bleed. but without the thorns i can't eat and i can't drink and i will still die, doctor.

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