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I put her to sleep every morning with the birds.
My little blanket darling.
She sleeps while I brave the worlds agony.
My sweet blanket darling.
One day, her eyes told me stories of solitude.
She never actually slept while I was away.
Her eyes showed fatigue and weary.
My poor blanket darling.

Now she's laughing away the responsibility of her promise.
My little blanket darling ran away.
Our hearts are frozen in time from the moment.
My blanket darling lives on in my dreams forever.
While her body lay in the mental institution.
I  lay her away.
As I steadily go insane.
Eh, it is what it is
We Are Stories Nov 2015
I hate the mask I wear
Behind my paper lines,
I hate the mask I wear
And all my un-rhymed rhymes.
I hate the fact that I'm some ghost
Who bleeds black ink onto my white host!
I hate the fact that I harbor my words
To the ships out at sea that all go unheard!
I hate the fact that I am a mess
And all I have left are these words of distress!

I hate that I try to make my self depressed
In order to write a poem that will truly impress!
I hate that I have to sit here everyday
Trying to write my problems away
Only to find
That behind the smeared lines
That I still am battling with my old demons!
That I still am battling with doubt!
Oh I hardly take time to care about the seasons
I just care about the problems I have going on now.

-And even at my best I'm just someone who can't write
And all my poems are a mask for my bloodiest fights
But tonight
I hope someone turns on the lights
And finds my dead corpse rotting off to the side,
I hope that for once it will all be fine
And my heart will stop beating before I start losing my mind-

— The End —