Sick Valentine

March 6, 2012
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Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
What I hate most
is the sick thought of you.

I enlisted in war,
I fought the fight,
Die my soul may,
but to hell you just might.

The sick thought of you,
What I hate the most,
The demons I've delt,
especially your ghost.

My dreams you've haunted,
the sleep I've lost.
My skin is thinning,
my body's great cost.

Bruises on my arms,
the result of your hand.
My spirit is dying,
but our souls are damned.

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