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All evil has a gain
But I have commited
A great sin
And lost all
Did
Thin little lines scratched into your flesh
Each with a story
Each a failed test
Fight it off
Every relapse
Fight it off
"I don't like fighting"
I don't either
But it's do or die
And please
If there's something left
Do not choose die
Sitting on the bathroom floor with a gun in your hand
Knees pulled up to your chest
Your head rests on your knees
Your shoulders shaking cause you're laughing and crying
Gun to the side of your head
"Are you gonna do it?"
Find the sweet release when the bullet leaves the barrel of the gun and enters your brain

Click

The gun's empty
I am not dying
The gun's unloaded
I do this every time
Never strong enough to take the bullet
And never strong enough to let anyone see me like this
Always weak enough to be messed up like this
*Always thinking, always wishing I put a bullet in
Wow. This is how I imagine myself at 23 and I'm still depressed and suicidal too when I am.
I hate it...
All along the pathway,
covered in snow and ice;
I walked alone, but I
found God was with me!

...
"...for he hath said, I will never leave thee nor forsake thee." Heb. 13:5
I tend to forget this sometimes.
Jesus never complained**
Should we?
5w

Complaining has never solved a problem, it only compounds!
Reality is strange
Life is an act
Sanity is a privilege
Any path I choose
I'm lost
There cannot be thrill
An empty happiness
Unable to feel
We're pawns in this eternal chess
Sacrifices for the higher
Not allowed to think
Move forward
****
Move forward
Die
Liars in this plot
Lambs for the feast
Crucial pieces of this
Least of the most
You play yourself
Death is your host
Welcome to Hell
You lose when you lose
Quiet brown  eyes
Soft red lips
Angry white hands
Lovely blue fire.
It kisses my skin
Embraces my heart
Silences my rage
Makes my lips part
I look back to me
I'm nowhere to be found
I scream to the heavens
I'm buried in the ground
Silly red drink
I cannot think
****** blue knife
I took your life
Dumb purple eyes
I'm filled lies
Hungry grey bars
Prison leaves scars
I see fake smiles with dry teeth
on a dead tree I'm the last leaf
cling to the cliff
or fall without fear?
The tears.
Autumn again
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