Sometimes, every time I do something wrong, I mean, really wrong, I always reassure myself, I’m only being human…

Blame me not for who I am,
I’m only being human,
imperfection in every fiber,
abominable in every way,
the side of which come what may,
we’re all the same,
grotesque with sin,
behind a pathetic sense of perfection,
sickening me to the core…
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