Can one feel agony,
Demonstrate the harm.
Can the words linger,
On paper,
Fill the definition,
Delicately paint the picture.
Can the loneliness,
Echo through,
Anothers body,
As if they,
And them are one.
Can the heart,
Lie and deceive,
The mind,
That causes the,
Body to shrivel [in] death.
Is there a cure,
For those with tragic,
Emotional; cutaneous,
Stigma flushed,
By ones own.
Bliss is the one,
With the will power,
Of suffer.
Torture is the one,
With the American dream.
Crosses the bond,
Of the tidal waves,
From the souls that,
Mourn,
Grieve [in] with sultry passion;
Breathe sulfur.
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