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internal incineration

By , Latrobe, PA
this doesn't hurt like i am used to
the pulsation in veins that pumps
and pumps until my heart beat rules my actions
this is the hurt that could destroy
a small flame at the center of my chest
that if given the opportunity it would
consume me, burning brighter and brighter
until my internal organs were to incinerate
these are the things i dream about at night
what i feel is about to happen when awake
as if i could roast marshmellows on my stomache
or breathe fire out of my nose when angery
see steam clouding my eyes and form water
in my tear ducts streaming down my red cheeks
this is the hurt that can hurt others in return
i could give in, easily and be this monster
this primative beast that tears the world away
i could do this, without sorrow or regret
with pride that i had taken away the smiles
like mine had disapeared into nothingness
but you know i wont, not for me, not for you
but for the idea that if i give into my self
then i am weak. and weakness in all eyes
is used to concure in one way or another
i refuse to destroy or be destroyed
expecially by the hate built up in me
in my very own body, a device of pain





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