A Withered Soul
White lines sit ever so vertical;
Upon a tarnished glass
A razor engraves the surface
As though it were the last.
With every line a story told of a broken life.
Up your nose you feel relief.
In a wonderland you explore.
No sence do you make.
My heart you will break.
Yet you always want more.
On a stone a story told;
Etched in the glass of which you scrap.
Here lies a withered soul.
Because of the choices that she made.
Goodbye my friend.
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