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I got a bit sad, and wrote some poetry to reflect that.
Love,
Some say a simple thing.
Or a sweet poison,
Or a blood-stained ring.
Will it get any better,
Or am I doomed to rot and fester?
If there is a God that does exist,
I am one whose prayer he has missed,
to the cycle of pain and suffering,
brought by the one who is smothering
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