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I put another cigarette up to my lips and hit it with a lit match flame I take another drag feeling her affections slip feeling that another day would be just the same I put the bottle up to my lips and think of the reasons I shouldn't I take another pull, a long burning sip and realize all of the ways love couldn't be for me what it was for her with me being confident falsely when I wasn't sure just looking clean when I was far from pure holding on tightly when I couldn't always endure my razor blade taps out another thin white line with a sharp breath I feel the sting start to numb I cut out another knowing I'm crossing a line but it takes the remorse of this that I've become I take another pill waiting for it's relief it's bitter taste reminding me of too many nights in a floor I wonder of my convictions and my true beliefs so many of the things the filth helps me ignore I couldn't be for her what she was for me I couldn't open eyes that didn't want sight to see I shouldn't have let true love only slightly be and I shouldn't be surprised at the misery it is all this sadomasochists sick ride down into the pits of lost pride but killing myself slowly doesn't feel so much like suicide
0
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 11:49 PM UTC
UNLOADING A PISTOL
I put another cigarette up to my lips and hit it with a lit match flame I take another drag feeling her affections slip feeling that another day would be just the same I put the bottle up to my lips and think of the reasons I shouldn't I take another pull, a long burning sip and realize all of the ways love couldn't be for me what it was for her with me being confident falsely when I wasn't sure just looking clean when I was far from pure holding on tightly when I couldn't always endure my razor blade taps out another thin white line with a sharp breath I feel the sting start to numb I cut out another knowing I'm crossing a line but it takes the remorse of this that I've become I take another pill waiting for it's relief it's bitter taste reminding me of too many nights in a floor I wonder of my convictions and my true beliefs so many of the things the filth helps me ignore I couldn't be for her what she was for me I couldn't open eyes that didn't want sight to see I shouldn't have let true love only slightly be and I shouldn't be surprised at the misery it is all this sadomasochists sick ride down into the pits of lost pride but killing myself slowly doesn't feel so much like suicide
brandon-barnett
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Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 11:49 PM UTC
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