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Thursday, August 10, 2017

Bloody Mary (A poem about addiction)


Always outnumbered by her inner demons
Plagued by the darkness that envelopes her entire being

Always numb
Always dead
So high, angry, then low with dread
While the ghost within her sleeps
Her wrath is silenced within a mirror with no energy to utilize it

Our minds keep racing
Like the insanity of a storm
Dependence dripping from our fingertips
Lying there begging for the strength to hold back the tears
Then hunting for the kill

Where do you go and what do you do when nothing is left but their ashes?


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