The Endless Wall

October 31, 2017
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These scars need more salt

For these wounds of words.

My mind grows black

With every truth you spill.

These children cry

Because of your hobbies

My cigarrete gets shorter

With these days getting longer.

These women strip

With every dime you throw.

These men cheat

With every dead home.

My patience shrinks

With these lies.

I grow smaller

When stand taller.

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