

SuicideSuicideSuicide
This is a poem to no one
But to the world
Where is life and love, When there is so much pain? You know of what I speak. The endless lines and rhymes Scribbled by desperate souls Such as you, Such as I, Seeking, searching, praying For what else but freedom. But that freedom you fool
Is the illusion.
Could you ever see why?
Why pain is the chain That weighs our souls down. Why freedom is nothing more Than the walls of our prison. You may break free of none And live a simple life But I no l
peace out
--
Someone somewhere said some things.
(not that i am angry at you it just adds to how effective it is)
--
"...bite my lip, garnet drips, makes our kisses slip..."
--
"Swords!" shouted Syme, turning his flaming face to the three behind him. "Let us charge these dogs, for our time has come to die."
--
.
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