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Ricky J Oct 2016
BPD
I hear the vacant screams within my mind, I wait for the day to melt  into the sublime.

How did I get so sick? The devil Parades my existence and pokes my sensitive skin with a stick.

I value solitude, just enough to devour my loneliness, this wretched illness I suffer alone, I pray to my soul to take me home.

— The End —