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Gavin Barnard May 2017
As a poet, an emotional wreck,
And a suicidal human being,
True love to me is
Forcing my hand through my ribs
And tearing my heart from my chest,
Settling it in your hands
And expecting you to keep me alive.
It might be slippery from all the blood, and its probably gonna start stinking cause of decomposition and maggots, but if you drop it its not going back in.

The worst part about three AM is that I'm hungry and I gotta be somewhere tomorrow. Finally evolving from a NEET into... Idek whats next.

— The End —