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Rory Aug 2014
Smile etched with scars
I've been this way since birth
I only have one question to ask
Tell me, why does it hurt?
Rory Aug 2014
****** the gun from my hands
Point the barrel at my head
Recoil as I grin the words
'Ready, aim, fire, dead'

**** the me that used to be
Send her off to fiery hell
Smile as I whisper the words
'In death I wish me well'
Rory Aug 2014
If I may rust away this fake metal
Slough off the imaginary skin I was given
Would that make me happy?
Would it make me whole again?

— The End —