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IX
Every minute. Every pill,
Every second, oh the thrill
of not knowing whether it is I,
or the bottle that will become empty first.
It is a shame only one can be filled again.
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enter into the world that tends to the desires of your mind,
5 comments, 100 likes,
these are the numbers that define, whether
or not you are truly worthy of anyone's time, follow
and compare, what it is
you lack or share with others,
s
    c
        r
           o
               l
                   l
             d
         o
     w
 n
    to
        the
            very bottom of the page, and
become a slave to the world in which you have created, the
world where you can cast your loneliness, or your
desires into this infinite void of emptiness, and
feel like it is fine, because
6 comments, 200 likes,
is equivocal in our minds, to genuine care
but there is truly nothing there, and
without this world that is like a home, you
truly realize that all this time, you
have really been alone.
I now realize....
that there are far more graveyards, in my brain
than there are gardens.
I will never be anything other than a tragedy.
VII
I never knew how much I would notice the spaces you once occupied
and how you will never be there to fill them again.
Tell me, why can I still not comprehend,
what it truly means when something comes to an end?
I wanted you to free me from your memory
but you have already done so,
it seems that it is I,
who can truly not let go.
VI
The sky is crying tonight,
perhaps it’s tears signify it's longing for me to say goodbye.
please, give me back to the sky.
I don't want to be here anymore.
So many ways to tell this story
                                   So many d e t a i l s that could help explain
Like the nights where I stayed up,
                             only comforted by the soft sound of the rain
or all the times I decided that b l a d e s would be the best way
                                     to
                                           relieve
                                                     the
                                                          pain­
           But I am sure you do not care
                                            Because what does that matter now?
                           I am gone and I am not coming back.
you can't save me.
And I suppose I still miss how we drank the moonlight,
how we never felt trapped by time
and instead banished them away, within

those moments I was hypnotized,
by the scent of your skin,
the flow of your hair,
and your eyes, yes your eyes, I

suppose in a way I was not free at all
because as your eyes greeted mine,
they captured me there,
and although I was not imprisoned by the human construct of time,
I was imprisoned by something new, something

beautiful and oh so blue,
your eyes were swallowing me,
and they trapped me in that room.
Although I still adore you,
these actions resulting from inebriation and adoration are nothing to adore,
please just let me go,
I can not handle this pain anymore.
My adoration for you is like fresh picked roses,
Beautiful and lovely,
Yet dying every second because,
no matter how fresh the water in the vase is,
or how much the sunshine may kiss them,
they are wilting away,
and there is no force on earth that can allow them to avoid their demise.
I hate the scent of roses.
IV
I am not the sun.
Do not misconstrue me as so.
I am not the moon, I am not the stars,
I am no where in the galaxy,
I am a flower,
wilting away in the garden of loneliness,
and you, you are the sun, the moon, and the stars,
you help me grow and make me feel warm like the sunshine should,
and captivate me and comfort my soul, like the moonlight,
and you shine brighter than all the stars.
I wish I didn’t adore you
III
You are like the sun up in the sky,
you hurt me when I get too close,
but I need you to survive.
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