Die with me.

June 4, 2011
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When I lay hardly breathing, broken in a troubling pail room, who will hold my hand with single tears trinkling upon their dry cheeks. Who will look in my eyes starring to my soul, reassuringly whispering it will be ok. Will it be my sister, my mother, my brother, or even a not yet found lover. What person will suck it up and try not to cry, just to make me feel better. Which being will sit through lonely silent nights, just to be there if I awake in a satanical sweat? When do I meat this specimen, or have I already laid a hardy gaze on their ever lasting face? Will my brokenness fry their bystander heart? Will the hushed explosion of a human heart stopping be as if picturing eternity? Why when I breath in a last breath those eyes have to stair. What makes it right in the fathoms of earth that their seems be ripped just to make my loneliness less. Who’s heart will crack when my heart beats a lonely one. What happens when it goes dark. Who will be their when I say goodbye to my light. What takes place when I die.

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