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My Life

The knife, the blade, these things I need.
The cuts & bruises, they always bleed.
My friends, they say, take a puff of this weed.
You say my life is out of control,
but this is just me.

Tell me if you think I suck.

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Comments


  • queen Greeters member
    May 21

    Edit | Reply

    Welcome To all poetry

    Maybe you won't need these things in the future Good poem
    Please keep writing reading and commenting

    Barbara
    Site Greeter