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Jan 2013
The blood.
I watch the pool as it begins to coagulate beneath.
Your hair is matted
There was no way I was going to stop
Until I broke those little bones in your fingers.
You moan.
Your cries remind me of something I saw on TV once.
I think it was a dying animal.
You know, like in those movies where they still put things out of their misery.
That's what I'm doing, I say to myself.
I wish you followed through
With those pretended attempts to end a pathetic existence.
Might of saved me the trouble.
I take my last drag off of my cigarette,
As the night grows colder.
I wonder what kind of lies you tell yourself
Before you go to sleep.
This is when I wake up.
Unfortunately,
It was all a dream.
Jo Peta
Written by
Jo Peta  los angeles
(los angeles)   
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