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Poetry: Bitter Poetry
Mirror
by Ben

I'm staring at the mirror now
Looking at my face
Watching tears running down
I'm such a disgrace

The answer always comes to me
As i lie in bed, my life won't be worth while
Until i am dead

I pick up the razor blade and press it on my flesh
The red drips from my arm
I taste it, it is fresh

I finally see the answer
Its right there in my head
My life is worth while
Now that i am dead

 
 
 
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