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Will Write For Food
i've tricked them once again
i made them believe that everything was fine.
******* I'm good,
even after all this time.
i'm too good at lying at lying to myself,
I'm too good at pushing away the pain.
and even tricking myself
into believing I'm okay.
you're telling me to breathe
but my throat keeps closing.
you tell me to sleep,
but every night is darkness without dreams.
how am i supposed to write,
without spilling blood on the page.
but this is my job now,
and i need a decent grade.
like forcing a bird to sing for food,
you're wringing me out.
my mind dripping to the floor,
i can't create beautiful things anymore.
i'm writing everything over again.
what do you want me to say?
that everything will be okay?
you want me to make my own light,
give myself a nicholas sparks ending.
because now I'm exposed,
I'm standing in front of you all.
and you can practically see the blood
dripping down my wrists.
with the world standing behind me,
its hard to keep my focus.
"make it pretty" she says,
"don't let them see you're already dead."
i can't turn tears to holy water,
or my own blood into wine.
i can't create beauty,
staring Darkness in the eyes.
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