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Jan 16
To the tune of your hypocrisy she lay awake and debate this life that she had grown so accustom to.
A mere glimpse of this plague that you call β€œtruth”, buried deep within your bones, alone, gentle mercy muse.
But beg no more for the fate you’d hope for, vacant; she is not here.
Even a childish girl would see through these words, weeping from the vile that spews from your mouth; lies.
To play on a heart in which strings are frayed, a game in which both sides are doomed.
From what is right and what is wrong, a choice you must make; choose or loose.
Britney Lyn
Written by
Britney Lyn  22/F/Michigan
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