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Meth
February 25, 2009
As screams slip past my lips,
tears roll down my cheeks, blood on the tips of my fingers,
the stabbing words you speek,
the rage in your eyes,
biteing tone to your words,
not at all understandable,
just a mess of slurs,
my head slammed against the wall,
the smell of liquor on your breath,
you strong hands taken over by liquor,
your mind taken over by meth.
© Anonymous
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