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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Emotional · #1646938
I deal with pain everyday. I wrote this morose piece one dreary day.
Deal with the searing pain,
that steady drains the brain
of thought and creativity,
leaving only lonliness and self pity.
{My body hurts...my mood swings...}

To the rhythm of life,
And the surgeon's knife.
that cuts through the haze
of the opiate daze...
{ that leaves me old...leaves turn gold.}

my autumn is near,
with it's doubts and fears...
winter doth comes
my time is done.
{ ashes to ashes...dust to dust...}
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