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To the ******* with my name
I will gut you and choke you
I swear you will never see day

How dare you take warmth
From my light
When it flickers in the wind

I will gouge your eyes out
So you never lay your eyes
On what provides me happiness

I will **** all those you hold dear
They will be the kindling of my pyre
Your fate shall be the same

Let this be a warning
Begone, foul beast of the night
And I will let you watch from afar
*******.
Weak I was and weak I am
My heart breaks for her once more
I play the game of love when I can,
But I cannot even score

Cry I did and cry I do
I cry to sleep every night
On my cheeks the tears they go
Oh what a terrible sight

Loved I tried and love I try
But I'll always end up hurt
Once again my poor heart tries
And the blood, out if it, spurts
I am Dante
I am a poet, a writer, and a fool
My love for her burns worse than hell

I will go through the circles
Of the nine hells below
Just to have her rest in my arms

My soul will suffer
As those below do,
But my love for her will guide me

The fires may touch my skin
And the hopelessness will hit me,
But I will keep fighting for her

I care not for the souls of the souls of the ******
I only care for the soul of my love
For she is my Beatrice
Who do I love anymore?
My heart calls for the both of them,
But God knows I can only have one.

My hear is split in two
And I cry because those two parts
Are both just as broken.

The universe plays its cruel game
Of making me feel the fires
Of their hearts burn for others.
No. I'm not cheating on anyone.
I thought I saw you, I really did.
I've been missing you.
I know you don't care anymore,
But I wish you would.

I thought it was you,
She looked like you.
I wish she were you
Even just for that moment.
I'm not crying for you
I'm crying for me
I've wasted
my
time
with
you

you
are
nothing
to me now
I'm out of words
I'm out of love

I need something
To be thinking of

I need to write
For it's in my soul,

But what's in my heart
Is a gaping hole

I'm forcing myself to write
Oh god, it hurts. *****.

Where was the blood that used to flow?
It's thinned out. Why is that so?

Do I need to love so I can write?
I don't want to feel pain, nor shall I fight.

Argh. This writer's block hurts like knives.
I'm too tired to rhyme so never mind.
Sorry this *****.
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