The Ill

October 28, 2013
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Scars on my wrist
Represent my broken heart
How I'm never missed
And how I've fallen apart

There's a pool of despair
Blood on the floor
Cuts I cannot repair
Infected to the core

The ache in my chest
are the Demons eating me alive
They never let me rest
And they never let me die

There's a chronic sting in my eyes
A constant battle in my mind
Blurred lines of reality and lies
Forever fighting the unkind

There's a bruise on my face
Proof of my Bully's hate
The lack of God's grace,
and the cruelness of fate

There's medicine there
That cures the ill
I feel better, I swear
After the handful of pills

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