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You Won

Struggle is what I asked for, not pain

Clouds are what I dreamt of, not rain.

I sit here gaping at my situation.

How horrendous decisions can lead to malfunctioning and then termination.

I felt bad for what I did to you. I had you and then I misused you.

So here I go for one last time.

In truculence and rue, I spit this rhyme.

Immaturity is the word for the day. It’s like my third for the day. I'd rather become

Kurt Cobain. Will that help me blur the pain while I surge the rain and purge the strain. End up in my room all bloodstained.

All my logic and reason sound so mundane.

I'll lay down and hope that it's a Sunday.

Should have told you before, I don’t feel the same anymore. You pretended not to feel the pain anymore. Now it’s me who feels like the sluts, like those penny whores. They stay

for money. I stayed for penny roars; to build up my ego.

Well, life is like a free throw. I miss you sink and here we go. I sit here and write

this down while you enjoy the breeze on the seashore.

You won babydoll, and there we go.

Signing off for now.




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