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Mar 2014
Breathe, for it's all you know,

Smile, don't let your sadness show.

Just hold your head up high,

Try and find strength from your own lies.

Feel warmth in this bottle of despair,

I say I'll drive to you,

My vision so blurry, I just don't care.

Off the road I may go,

At least there no one would find me,

Buried underneath the snow.

I'll find solace in these dreams,

For now,

My life looks so perfect through the glass,

As if nothing bad every happened,

And all poor judgement was in the past,

I sit here tearing at my seams.

Yet I have nothing to bring to this table,

I have only this broken heart that comes with many fables.

Feast will you, on what's left of me,

I've been waiting, wishing, to finally bleed.

For no longer can I walk through life like this,

I will enjoy every moment as I indulge in this sickness.
Some things come to you from your subconscious.
Blythe Barrymore
Written by
Blythe Barrymore  Portland
(Portland)   
377
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