no name

April 15, 2011
You say speak up. but glass is in my throat.It hurts so bad it cripples me. My fingers won't stay straight cause they have been punctured way too much. My hair is coarse and black. A knife seems to be the only moisturizer for it. My feet have been sliced. My bones have turn to dust. My fingers are falling off one by one. My rib cage has been unlocked without my consent and my once healthy soul has been stolen by the black thieves of this night. Nails stick me at every corner of my skin. I can hear it slicing piece by piece. None knows of the state of my mortal soul. Nor do i ever want them to. My heart has been beaten with a roman whip. It has been stabbed with your wrath and has been dipped in your chemical infested ocean of your soul. It seems the only cure for the lingering pain is to burn it.To set it in fire and push it off a 2000foot cliff. But i simply won't do it.

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