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Untitled one
Her heart rotting away
She clung to the rotting organ
He had the stomach
She gave her knowledge for love
A love that was as false and beautiful as a porcelain doll.
Her heart rotting away
He had the stomach to take it.
Untitled 2
The pen turns to whisky
The paper turns to pills
The poet's light grows dim
The poems grow darker with this lack of light
The people fear the poet
The poet writes
The pen and paper are used often
The perfect end to the poem.
Hope you enjoyed <3
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