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May 2018
This curse
Enveloped like the ink I use to write this verse
All in my head
Whispers get loud in my dreams;
The words you have said

Let's get to the point
My head is all cloudy so I roll up this joint
Smoke 'til it's clear
Then have a few drinks
Crack open this beer

Where have you gone?
Did we fight, was I in the wrong?
I look in cracked mirrors and feel the shame
When you're dead in your eyes and have no one to blame

The screams, they are saints
Marching on into cerebral rooms
Carrying red paints;
Fresh coats of you to remind me why
Your life was the reason I was barely alive.
Cory Williams
Written by
Cory Williams  28/M/Pennsylvania
(28/M/Pennsylvania)   
207
 
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