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  Jan 2019 norad
donnie
every night i softly cry
eat an apple, hope to die
you've left me here, so red and flushed
im waiting for you, but i feel rushed
the bleeding heart slips from my grasp
i run to catch it in a dash
but only you can break its fall
and as it hits, I slowly crawl
to you.
adieu.
goodbye,
sweet lie.

— The End —