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Aug 2014
There's nothing left
of all that could've been
except my empty shudder
inside this chest,
begging to rot
from the outside in
where lust equals death
where death equals trust
where nothing,
(nothing at all)
keeps me alive
for the nothing that's left.
RMatheson
Written by
RMatheson  M/Beating tired bones
(M/Beating tired bones)   
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