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I want to ask for her company,
But that would be too much.

I'm alone on a holy day,
Staring at my new scars.

I like them. I really do.
I like the cross they form.

Unintentional, of course.
How can you plan two lines to meet,

Over one year apart.
Just, lonely. And kinda sad. Slight urges. Nothing satiable.
I'm screaming.
My glottis has stopped the air form moving, but trust me,
It's there.
With pressure.

My eyes are about to pop out.
Strings his bow,
Checks his quiver.

And puts both down.
*No blood this time.
I'd push your daisy.

*wink wink
I am lonely sometimes :/
I am Joe's bloodshot eyes.
I am Joe's clenched fist.
I am Joe's irregular heartbeat.
I am Joe's yearning ****** desire.
I am Joe's failing chemical receptors.
I am Joe's overdose.
I am Joe's attempted ******.
I am Joe's official autopsy.
I am Joe's medical examiner saying that he died from a cerebral hemorrhage.
I am Joe's mass grave.
I am Joe's lack of family and friends.
I am Joe's mistakes.
I wrapped the suicide note around my throat,
It came in the form of a noose.
But before I knew what I wanted to do,
I had somehow wiggled loose.
The stool's too short for this overpowering court,
"Back to my old resorts."
Body and soul.
I want to write a poem about social **** in my life, but, I just can't because there is no beautiful way to write it, and I'm sick of writing the bad poetry that this site is addicted to. It's not good. It's teenagers complaining about media and drinking and parties and swag and it's just dumb. Write about the important things. And the stupid ****. But make it beautiful. And if you can't, well. I'd avoid publishing if I were you.
Solitioner, Soliloquy, Silence.
Petitioner, "Papers please", Paint,
     Take your pick.
Get high, Get drunk,
But don't, That's ******.

Get in love, Make some babies,
Don't. That's *******.

Have fun.
Yeah.
Have fun.
¿Que?
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