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Sacrelicious
Poems
Jun 2017
I hate therapy.
Every now and again.
The therapist will
give you the wheel.
Driving down a highway
for the ****** martyrs
of psychosis.
But whose really helping who?
Pleading incompetent to subdue the enemy.
Only for a moment.
Will I, endulge in this
depravity.
With smiles stained of the ****.
I willingly eat to stay relevant
It's decadent.
The sweetest escape.
For narcissists young and old.
Covered in paranoia. Leaking impulsivity.
Rocking the crown of thorns.
I don't know who wore it better.
Written by
Sacrelicious
31/M/Hell
(31/M/Hell)
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