I withered away for 17 days

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It's the earlies
of the morning
Still no heavy eyes

I dream sometimes
the things aren't the way they are.
You perceive my emotion to be dead, cold
I have never felt so alive.

Do you really care
You lack the focus needed for unconditional love
Wrapped away into your gossips and spin of money
I withered away for 17 years

I dream sometimes
the things aren't the way they are.
You were accepting and didn't take away my choices

My controlling tendencies
and lack for a better word, 15 year old skank
who searched for love in drugs, bad women and men, alcohol, and self mutilation techniques
Expertise by the age of 16

The things I would say
To clarify my confusion on your words
So beautifully manipulated
Taken to the grave
Not knowing it was for me
As you'd calmly say,
"Look what I got for you, took me days to get this"

Till death do us part, nothing more after.





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