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Jun 2015
I need to heal...
But you keep on ripping my stitches
It's kind of suspicious
That flesh and bone can be this resilient
You're one in a million
But I can't help but believe that you're guilty
Of trying to **** me

Why do you ****** my feelings?

I swallow pills...
So I can continue my mission
To tune out all the *******
And self-obsession, it's sickening
I'm ripping holes in your memory, turning ashes to sigils
I can't believe that you think
That I'd take all of this sitting

I promise you, this time

There will be blood on the ceiling!
And on the walls
All down the halls
And up in the Attic
Chop you up into tiny pieces
And hand feed them to maggots
Ishmyre of the Inferiors
Written by
Ishmyre of the Inferiors  9th Ring of Saturn Box 7
(9th Ring of Saturn Box 7)   
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