Masochist

Standard

On paper cuts I’m sucking

From roses thorns I’m plucking

Just to feel the stick

And stick my fingers hand to mouth

And taste the blood like copper

And squeezing, please don’t stop her

From putting teeth to flesh

I always like it best

When I can feel the sting

And inside passion’s rising

From small wounds-you’re surmising

Maybe the girl’s sick.

But I just make the best of it,

Cause life so often hurts.

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About Keats

Oh I'm sassy and I'm sexy, So silly sweet-and-sour Delightfully disastrous And deliciously dour I'm flippantly foolish, Filled I am with fear Can't concentrate completely, and my conduct isn't clear But to bravely be my best I Bring bravado back, BEHOLD!

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