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Ishmyre of the Inferiors
Poems
Mar 2012
Sunday Morning Suicide
My little mind is slipping,
Ripping, and tearing
Exposing the soul
That I shouldn't be sharing
My heart is in pieces
For thousands of reasons
And though I am older
The embers still smolder
My father, he left me
My mother, she blames me
My world, it tried to enslave me
The son of Three
Who could ever be free?
So, I'm out here all alone
Too bad, we never had a home
What a shame,
I would've made a very good dog
The spirit was strong,
Its intentions, wrong?
The sweet water still flowing
Saturating drowning lungs
Washing the hurt away
Towards the shallow graves I've dug
Written by
Ishmyre of the Inferiors
9th Ring of Saturn Box 7
(9th Ring of Saturn Box 7)
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