releasing & growing

poetry allows me to purge and process. its how I breathe.

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doused in gasolinic pain, I am suffering, selfishness and sadness a melting pot for this onslaught, why am I the canvas for this paint? was my love not real? or was my love fragile, half there, for suicide was at my doorstep, was my every waking moment, the ceiling covered in a black cloak, […]