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Wales Abiola May 2015
I hate the smell of disappointment
I hate the taste of losing
The stings of failure keeps leaving holes in my soul
I know I can't survive long in this pool of shame
I can feel the grasp of death pulling me down deeper;
Deeper Into the darkest place of my soul
I try whispering onto you to yank me out
But each time I whisper
I see you pulling away.

— The End —