They Call Me Mia

Some days I believe in myself like crazy and others i’m just like a dying daisy…
wilting in the wind.
the air growing thin

and then some little boy plucks me and rips off my petals…
“she loves me, she loves me not….”

what a sweet and tender thought.
That maybe when we’re about to die, we’re…

Some people play hard to get, I play hard to want.

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