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Dec 2018
Your words became the rope that's tied on my neck
Your whispers became the wind that pushed me off the edge
Your stare became the blade that cut through my wrist
Your goodbye became the pills I last took
They didn't taste bitter
In fact they didn't taste any
and I let the night **** me
And if by chance you hear this
there's no need for you to worry
I might've died that night
but I learned to be reborn
the next morning
And the next morning after that.
JK Casilda
Written by
JK Casilda  22/F/Void
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