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B Chapman Nov 2017
You've lost me so many times,
always pleading and tearful,
pulling me back in
with promises of change and love,
promise you never kept.

Rage and deceit bleed in your veins.
Break me and ridicule when I crack.
Laugh and lay on me all blame,
ego tearing through,
ripping our fragile world apart.

Pride and greed stained with jealousy
drilling me deeper into the ground.
Weep as you play our Ressurection.
'I'm worthy of more,'
someone whispers in my head.

Yet if that was true,
wouldn't I have recieved it?
If I was worthy
wouldn't someone have shown it?
I'll always be the perfect victim.

— The End —