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May 15
You say you “miss” me?
God—I know you “mean it,”
said it like
a broken ******* record.
And if you see my smile,
you know it’s *******.
**** it.

You were never there—
You neglectful *******.
Your performance fakes all,
watch me fall and drown,
like you were hoping
I’d slam into a brick wall,
bleeding—

Tryna make a sound,
I choke on toxic venom—
Burning my chest,
stress feasting like parasites—
Never found my disgusting corpse.
A ghost haunting hearts,
friends with ends meet,
arguments turn into knife fights—
Take things far,
left with scars.
Last sentences hit
like a guillotine,
heads left rolling,
no ceremony…
But **** it—
Paul Phifer-Deratany
Written by
Paul Phifer-Deratany  15/M/Los Angelas, CA
(15/M/Los Angelas, CA)   
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