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Literature Text
I've caught your sadness
I know your misery
Trapped by your madness
Why are you doing this to me?
You said you’re getting better
Why should I care any more
I’m burning your letter
Just walk out the door
Get away from me
I’m done with you
How can’t you see
I’m messed up too
I know your misery
Trapped by your madness
Why are you doing this to me?
You said you’re getting better
Why should I care any more
I’m burning your letter
Just walk out the door
Get away from me
I’m done with you
How can’t you see
I’m messed up too
Literature
Betrayed Love
I let you work your way
Up underneath my skin
Unaware, and not knowing,
The havoc you would cause within
I let you wind your way
Around my empty heart
Making me feel whole
But still tearing me apart
I let you see the parts of me
I'd kept inside for so long
But somehow, now,
Everything with you feels wrong
I don't know how it happened
How- we've slowly slipped away
Don't know what it was that
Ever made me think you'd stay
You stole all of my secrets
Ran away with all my love
Took away all of the things
You were never deserving of
You broke down all my barriers
Left me more empty, and alone
And I feel that somehow, before all of this
I fee
Literature
To Die A Lie
If I was to count
All the thoughts in my head
I fear I'd still be counting
Long after I am dead
I just can't stop thinking
About everything you said
Every sentence you spoke
Was a sentence to death
Just another line
Closer to the end
Between the lines I see
Your creeping deathbed
I may think about death
Far more than I ought
But in the end
It's only just a thought
I thought you understood
But you lie to yourself
Like you do to everyone else
I can't understand it myself
Even lying there
You live in denial
But not for long
In downward spiral
Tangled in your own web
Was it worth the words
Those wasted words you spoke
That only I ever heard
Literature
scent.
theres something so comforting so
warm about my bedroom with wooden floors
splattered with paint from childhood art
projects and science experiments.
theres something so nostalgic about the way
evening sunlight filters through the closed
white curtains and makes squares of weak
gold on the cotton.
there is something so numbing about laying in front
of this heater until my face takes on a sweet burning and
i get a temporary hot river of blood pounding beneath
my cheeks.
when i cant see the floor it feels smaller in here safer in here
almost familiar in that:
i have no fucking clue where a damn thing is
and part of me doesn't want to know
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