October 22, 2010
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Hands made out of glass
Cut down into what he loves
Destroys his passions and affections

Suicidal homicide, pushing himself to the edge
There is nothing for him, he realized

Self harming monster
Pathetic, left in shame
There is no single other
Just he without a name

Reeking of imperfection
Self loathe and simple hate
Waiting for the day he feels
His feelings dissipate

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