If reality has a plan for me, its plan is to crap on me, trying to me sad as the devil is happily clapping, rapping his claws around my neck but doesn't let me meet my death. with every breath I wish I was dead but instead, you just dig the knife deeper in my side. i hope it will be enough to make my blood run thick n quick n trick myself in to thinking I could actually die, but once again I rise to endure this white knuckle ride, till the day you finally come and claim my life..
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