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the only thing stopping me from killing myself
is perfecting the final draft of the letter that says my farewell
how stupid would it be if there was a word on there misspelled
what drove me to this point of loathing and depression
was every cigarette I smoked and every blessing I had
my life was an endless cycle of mad, sad and think about when I was glad
to breathe in air, smell the scent of your hair
now I'm in ruins, in a state of despair
the stars shine on
my death means nothing
you were so trusting
that trust was crushing
I drowned in a sea of worries
and I was ripped apart by the pressure
to pleasure and send her to her happy place
how did you ever love this face?
these bags under my eyes
were packed full of lies
my frown was a crown, I wore it proudly
I was a king of absolutely nothing, I proclaimed my title loudly
I never mattered
I never will
goodbye
don't cry
I'm not worth it
trust me, this one last time
just.. tell me that you were mine
past tense
so many regrets
all those sunsets
I spent them looking at you instead of the sky
I never felt more alive then
now I want nothing more than to die, this is the end
see you later.
DC DEMARSE Feb 2015
something will happen before you know it.
Recent exchange wuz a wave gbye,
just for the toiling foil: you two quite were the knocking
heads, against a rascal ornery some holy rule. Err bad. Really bad.
You had and he had stomped away.
Splinters of the thing done then wreak all over
the hovel. We ****** a ***** and create here
where it feels good to massage
with your hands, neck
stiff as bad buildings warning even with a tip
in the wind: somebody
gathered up
a spiny dearth, from her, like
the way one extracts fluid from a growth: we wanted
an emptiness so belittled: she had
millions of dreams:
she wandered placidly through life.
Instead, instead, instead. She
distances the self and goes to bed hungover and sun shining
instead. Whom gave it up for money,
that was a bad idea: for who you are, want to be.

— The End —