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Posted by on 2020/04/17 under Life

Share it's funny they won't think it's you because, because you no longer have whoever the duck that was(s) attention. Good, they were mean, hurtful, but you hurt back, abused your mean. Soft spot and you dwell. Hurt is your Siamese twin. Pain and hurt you are. It consumes you and in the end it sadly comforts you now. Comfort, comfortable, comforting like my super soft fluffy bedding. My goose down pillows, cotton breathable sheets. Sleep you have not done me right. I'm tired all the time. In this bed, stuck in this bedroom. Bonded to it by what ever brings you down. It's safe, too safe. Now it's time to have a dream. Dreaming! I haven't in weeks, maybe months. Sad face. The one with one tear. That s***s stupid. Blah blah blah blah blah blah. Matter that's dark. How f***ing frightening. The unknown and then f***ing dark matter. Thanks you!¡!!!!!!¡!!!¡!!!!!!!!¡!!!!¡¡¡¡!!!!

Sorry, that's what I should of started with. You don't have to say anything. You might not give a flying f***. You don't have to. I'm sorry. I hurt you and when I looked into your eyes I was scared. I lost you. Gone. That's alright. I am selfish, I keep hurting you not letting you move on but I won't let myself. Selfish, that's what I am. Never truly in control so, I don't. Selfish, yes, very much so. So much that I selfishly reach out but not this time. I was unknowing. If you acted like I wasn't there I would have no clue. Silence, something that you have put me through. That was all you had to do, but………not what you did.

Now hurt. F*** hurt, pain, suffering, unpleasant stabbing in the, I really can't tell you, that s*** that makes your chest feel weak. Stabbing in the lung or heart maybe that's where my soul is kept.

Fish and chips

Gross. End poem.

Cynical, Cumberland farms and there was a decision which determined whether you would be interested in a trade. A truck driver for a cynical evening with me. You grand fart.

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