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May 2019
Its here again tonight like a cinder brick on my chest
In this grave I call a bed I'll surely die from no rest
The air is too thick milkshake through a narrow straw
And no matter how I gasp air will not provide my lungs
with what they need to survive

And I'm sweating and I'm turning
Well at least I am in my mind because I'm stuck in too warm sheets and the heat they trap inside
I can hear my heart beat like a bomb counting to my doom
And it keeps on beating faster and I dont know what to do

--Lately I can't sleep with the thought that I will die
Grace Ann
Written by
Grace Ann  21/F/Tennessee
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