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Nov 2017
I wake up tired of the sounds and sights and feelings of me
And being is a chore and believing is weak
In the face of my hate for the reflection I see
Not a single thing with which to agree
And that's fine
And this is sad
And I hurt
But I scream behind this screen
With letters filled with grief
At least the writings good
Or so I'd like to think
A lie that I could take something so horrid
And give it a pretty face
Could just be ****
I'll sink with this ship
I'll learn my place
So I hope the water is warm when it fills my lungs
And I hope I don't bother when I finally succumb
I'll do my best to leave how I lived
So don't break the streak of absentmindedness
While I cease to exist
Andrew Saromines
Written by
Andrew Saromines  Las Vegas
(Las Vegas)   
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