Thursday, August 07, 2008



August 2008
These things happen. We spoke about the fall. You didn't care at all. Both running until it ran out. Only i'm built with an off switch.
If you say it one more time I just might kill myself. A finger i'll slip. With blood on the tip. Like a question mark in the dark.
They want you trampled and confused. The way they are. To be left without a heart. But don't worry. You can have mine.
So we've been erased. A practice in experation. You want so much from me. I'll give you something to cry about.

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