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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Tragedy · #1338181
its really whatever you see it to be, i like to here other peoples interpretations on it.
Countless sorrows thoughtless nights

lost in cold country days dreaming of warm city nights

shivering cold winters love

praying for angels to come take me above

crying over milk that spills

making hopfiled dream like taking pills

geting a rush of posibility

knowing full well of the extent of my ability

standing over my soul dead from overdose

sadly accepting that il never hold anyone close

hope is the drug for the soul

took too much now stuck in this hole

endless repitition that i now call life

all i ever wanted was a lover and a wife

whenever i come close its always ended with shame

no matter what will be done i will always be the one to blame

now broke from spending it all on hope i now cannot pay the reapers toll
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