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glassea
Poems
Jun 2015
at the point where (tw: suicide)
i can't tell the difference between
my blood and my tears
because they are both red
days drag like centuries
while months pass like seconds
(inhale september, exhale july)
everything is bland, tasteless
save for the metallic tang
of the poison in my veins
sunrise and sunset look
exactly the same........................
(i don't care anymore)
i think i'm at the point where
i'd rather die than dream
Written by
glassea
24/USA
(24/USA)
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Nicole Dawn
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