In the company of misery, our blood stain painted history, leaves us with a mystery, leaves us like the seasons, don't even need a reason, won't offer any closure, couldnt keep your composure, the broken walking wounded, slightly staggered in the rain, with walls as high as mountains, now numb to all the pain, keep trying, I'll keep counting, veins full of novocaine, my arteries of iron, feel something like a fire, but you would never know it, I'll keep it in my poems, then pretend I never wrote them. I know.
©rage
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