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What's left?
Coated in self destruction
The residue from the mass murders
Of spirit everyday
What remains?
Of a person so torn
Pieces and slices ripped out from beneath
When they stab at you constantly
How can you revive yourself?
With the few pieces that are left?
How can you make a whole person?
From the skin that has been stressed
Pulled and worn
You fill the excess room
With feelings of disgust
And you’ll bury yourself at the bottom of the blackest hole
Are these feelings merely amplified?
Or have I lost all self control
