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Misadventures of Crow
Poems
Aug 2015
Bile
Sleep did not come
and his stomach was a sea
of acid festering on the rotting
husks of swallowed lies
and quarantined pain
objects too sharp to fit into any
puzzle strewn over
carpeted floor they lie in wait
to **** their tithe
Every one a knife
every stab a cruel joke
painting him into the corner
where he belongs.
I have ruined myself best.
#depression
#anxiety
#panic
#self-loathing
Written by
Misadventures of Crow
40/Gresham
(40/Gresham)
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