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May 2017
I am a musician;
I can play you like a guitar.
I’m on a mission,
To break you apart.
The broken, ****** bottle falls from my hand;
A guitar pick hangs from my neck.
Maybe if you’d been more of a man,
I wouldn’t be such a wreck.
The room is quiet now,
You’re almost in Death’s hand.
I make my silent vow,
That when I bury you in this land,
You’ll stop haunting me;
And I’m deaf to your pleas.
Rhea
Written by
Rhea  23/F/California
(23/F/California)   
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