foxes : Part 2
I was always obsessively
full of painful anxiety
and blood of wishing,
I can scream,
but blood never washes off.
A something
in the wave of distressing
a tidal wave of hope-lessly
and its full of their hate
and my own backyard
of retaliation,
of why I sleep
for hours of eighteen
Why can't I
just live in my dreams?
Will I be able to
if I spill the blood
of the guilt
of my painful momentum?
I never felt joy,
until my lights were out,
and my fantasies
were true events
as I remembered
and now the holy
of such remembered faces,
Jesus and I never
had a good
relationship.
I feel my soul,
is escaping to joys
of their misery
and they won't
pretend,
I meant anything
in this damn world
Its getting worse.
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