Drafts 2

There is nothing inside of me that wants to scream. 

I feel as if art school has silenced me. 
Dried out this babytowner.
I hope that with the warmth comes something inside of me that wants to do more than drink. 

But to make art again.
I feel as if I’ve become this normal pile of a woman drowned in booze.
I get so boring when I’m not troubled. 
But I have worked so hard to solve myself.

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