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Confusion has been rife of late;
I'm hanging on to the **** end of the stick,
When it's not the time or the place,
As if my life depends on it.
I can see the remains of love
Running black rivers down the length of your face,
So let me give you a shove;
We haven't got the time to waste.
Reveal all your secrets and weep;
I know of the dirt that hides under your nails;
I promise I'll laugh if all else fails
Because my life is equally bleak.
Moths run rampant in my underwear,
And the working-class lifestyle isn't for me;
But with you, I learned to love poverty
Whilst kidding myself into believing you were there.
I've drained enough fluid from my soul
To care not if you break the skin from time to time;
Because I write about you using my blood, you know.
Every single poem I've written about love (despite the obviously obsolete), have been about this girl. She's the one who breaks me, makes me, and generally ruins my life in the best way possible.
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