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michelle Oct 2013
Your words act as fists on her fragile soul
The bruises are forming now as the wounds start to show
Her heart is now pounding,
"They always heal slow"
michelle Oct 2013
In the first five minutes,

The only blades that cross your mind
belong to the fan cooling you from above.

The only love you yearn for
is that of your bed and the warmth it gives you.

The only hate that you feel
is for the sound of a ringing clock filling your waking ears.

Five blissful minutes.
When regrets and sadness do not fill your tormented mind,
when darkness does not fill your tired soul.
michelle Oct 2013
Nothing you ingest or confess
will remove the hollow feeling in your chest.

— The End —