Untitled as of yet (thus far)

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
It's just what I felt. I just wrote. No rough draft, no rhyming, nothing. It just... is.

Submitted: August 22, 2009

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Submitted: August 22, 2009

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I am so confused

Thoughts swimming in my head that form something unrealistic

How does a person say goodbye

When doing so would kill the other?

Why do tears flow mercilessly

Untill I feel I am nothing,

Just dried up, and sniffling.

Ten thousand tears come out

But that is just the beginning,

Just a taste of how many I can shed.

Why do razors against my skin feel like feathers?

Where is the pain?

I needed that to know I was alive,

Where is it??

Tears of salt and blood of veins...

Make me feel alive?


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