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by
Eliot
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Poems
Jun 2018
Wasting away
This festering wound,
Eating away my insides.
My time is wearing thin.
The harmony of pain,
Suffering and disease,
Creates such an eerie melody.
No need to eat,
No need to breathe.
I'll soon be dead, anyways.
Lost all strength,
I have no will to live.
Death seems to be my only escape.
If this blood won't stop, maybe my life will.
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and
Tara
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