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I stared at your picture.
Your eyes pierced me,
Like knives of ice,
And I die a little more.
They catch in my throat
And it hurts so much,
All the emotions feel
Like swallowing razors.
I feel the warm trickle,
Taste the bitter iron of regret.
And I die a little more.
Haven't written in years, still depressed. Maybe some day I won't be.

— The End —