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These Bags
These bags
are filled with your guilt
staring at your past
these eyes
are filled with blood
staring at your strifes.
these tears
fall with your courage
what were really fighting for?
anddo you ever stop to wonder that it's possible that you were hurting worst than me?
This bed
holds truths to be self evident
that you never saw me as equal
This rainbow
holds knifes in the stops of their never ending shemes
This casket
holds my hand through the pushed smiles I give you.
and do you ever stop to wonder that it's possible that you were hurting worst than me?
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