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when your born to a world thats always dieing
whats the point in always lying
to myself about my trying
living for others
not wasting away
wanting to die
slowly
fade away
a warm soft death bed
a room of gray
the chains of the bed holding me down
rusting away
freeing my soul
to finish the job that i could not
letting my mind and autumn start the rot
rot rot rot rot rot rot rot...

worst write ever

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