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foretelling death

isolate me from these razor sharp lies bleeding me out till i want to die there's doubt, to await and drown me in my tears to my soul its theirs the paranoia to leave because there's nothing left here with that, I'd rot in peace with every blood i spill I'm feeding my fear self-destruction i lay with infliction then it shall be i, the one holding the razor
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Written by
evelyn-colbolt
American
Published
May 9, 2012
Lines·Words
9·69
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