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Mar 2017
Your presence was a blessing
your blessing was a curse
You made me feel the best
you made me feel the worst
You took till there was nothing
now baron like the trees
In frigid winter months
your love was a disease
******
stuck
For months i thought of you
a pain
I let the blood loss soak the floor
and stain
Distain
bitter to the tongue
Shunned
into death traps i am sprung.
Mark The Vagabond
Written by
Mark The Vagabond
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