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Oct 2015
41
I don't want to die,
But the moon still calls my name.
I think I'll visit.

So I swallow fast!
Until the last lump goes down
And my throat closes!

My eyes shake sideways!
And my arms feel cold again-
This is how and when

This is how and when
It all comes crumbling to the
Ever expected

And overly dull,
Commonly thought out, and the
Quiet, calm, silence.

The ever repeat
Of my tragic tragedy:
My heart wrenching end.






Dear trees who hold me,
I will always miss your songs.
I will miss singing

To the soft echoes
Bouncing through your dark branches.
I won't forget you-

Don't you forget me-
I will never remember
Something like your voice.
We Are Stories
Written by
We Are Stories  28/M/Florida
(28/M/Florida)   
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