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ending note
won't be a punch in the gut.
maybe a loose choke out.
nothing to bruise you
like youre used to, like you like
and need.
it's okay if you do,
and why don't you
find me-
i see the marks
i left on you
have all but
faded.
I'm having trouble thinking up a shiny brief statement- let's see, I promise to do better and be better and let it all go?
highly unlikely. i just keep running , sweating, writing, bleeding, strumming, drumming, coming, going. eating cake. Will it ever be enough to fill your belly, like i did before?
and will there ever be a bigger question as to why?
was there ever any question? if there was, i hope you know
by now.
the silence
and void
is hard
to fill
even
with words.
boom.
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photos\art:
goodwinterdeviantart
scott radke
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