Sunday, March 27, 2011


Run to the single thought that hasn't left me,
Twisting and turning by this fact
You're the anti thesis to my existence
Over glorified and inside out,
Even you can't say for sure
Who were you before you died?
Reincarnated into exactly what you wanted?
I won't be there to dry your eyes,
Even if it kills me on the inside
I don't know you and you don't know me

You would have noticed these aren't tears,
And wiped the blood off my face a long time ago

Poem 8

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