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PYCHOTIC FASHION

Poetry By: Nessly305
Horror


Tags: Poem


FUCKED UP WAYS


Submitted:Feb 20, 2007    Reads: 125    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


DORMENT IS MY MIND TO THIS DISEASE.

BUT IM NOT AFRAID.

IT HAS TO BE THIS WAY.

YOUR DELAYED.

CRAWL BACK INTO MY SPACE.

LEFT BACK TO WIN.

NOW HERE IT GOES THROUGH.

ITS MY TIME TO SIN.

YOU GIVE TO MUCH.

OF SUCH I DONT WANT.

BUT YOU CANT STOP.

SO MY LIFE YOU HAUNT.

MISERY IS CLEAR.

ITS ALWAYS AROUND.

TO THE FURTHEST REACHES.

ITS GOT US BOUND.

LOOKING UP TO THE SKY.

ASKING FOR MY LOST SOUL.

I DONT KNOW WHAT YOU DID.

ITS TAKEING ITS TOLL.

LOST MIND AND ITS NOT COMING BACK.

FLOATING AROUND OR VANISHED.

ITS JUST GONE.

LIKE IVE BEEN BANISHED.

NOT A CRY FOR HELP.

JUST TO EXPRESS MY PASSION.

OF ALL I CAN.

MY OWN FUCKED UP PYCHOTIC FASHION.





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