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Person dealing with family deaths and the struggle to break the cycle of disfunction. |
| The blood that runs through my veins, comes from a family that was insane, a genetic curse, some families bare, some bloodlines many people share, as one steps to take a look, opening a life up like a book, knowing, I am me, because you were you, no way around what people say being true, The blood in me was in you to, I see you in me, In some things I do. Should I see this as a gift? Or, Are some left with a curse to lift? A choice, to me, is what life is about, but the blood that is in me causes doubt, feeling them inside me screaming out, deep in my bones is a constant shout, the blood that runs through my veins, Comes from a curse that has blotted many stains, blotted and covered with pain that remains, as long as their blood runs through my veins. |