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Mar 26
And suddenly I’m at your funeral                                              
                                                                ­   again. Your body is

          bloodied, laying in the little, black, box.        
  
                                                             ­  Your face is marred.

Or maybe it’s my tears                                                            ­              
                                                  ­     that make me                                    
                forget
   ­                                                                 ­                        how you look(ed)
              You shouldn’t be there.               I won’t be there.
                                              Unless you call for me.         But
                                                             ­                 dead people don’t speak.
And then I’ll climb down to your bed
Just to make sure you’re still breathing
Lostling
Written by
Lostling  Heart repair shop
(Heart repair shop)   
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