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Oct 2011
As I pull the blade through me
my own clutched hair in hand
life, blood and breath move from me
to weak I cannot stand
not a care I have for you
the mirror speaks so grand
to laugh now I hear you
so far a beastly band
your love I hold before me
in this cold now dying hand
cold steel is my fortune
loves toll takes me from this land
AC Brooks
Written by
AC Brooks
481
 
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