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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Dark · #2212050
A bit of a mess in words
I have grown better because I am bitter.
They were never my friends, like a snake they would slither.
Shoved out in the cold i was fighting the shivers.
No one to hold but the bones of my sick figure.
Walking on coals but i can't escape.
Food has grown mold that is on my plate.
That reddish tint floods my face and wheezing breaths are all i take.
These decisions are mine and only mine to make.
I have given up and that is no mistake.

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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2212050