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my poetry
My battle cry
It cuts like a knife and runs down the walls...
a razor to the wrist to hear my cry...
the pain that lurks within the halls...
only when the pain subsides will i truly die...

I hang onto life like a Pirate on a noose...
struck down and left to die,
I feel broken down and beaten to a pulp...
tonight you will hear my last battle cry...





Surakunamay
Community Member
 
 
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