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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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![]() When you sneak your way out of the jail cell I put you in All the way in the center of my heart, When you twist and turn your way through the veins And bang on the walls just to cause me pain I will be waiting for you. I won’t be waiting for you with a bottle of pills anymore
A rope, a knife I will be waiting with the key; You’ve been held captive long enough. At first I thought that it would keep others safe from you But when I saw the pain in my love’s eyes as I told him How you destroyed me, I knew I was wrong. It’s someone else’s turn to hate you now. I hope you suffer without a home. Prisoners at least get fed, the convicts on death row get a nice last meal. I will not be your last meal. All you will be fed is the same poison that haunted me for years: hate. A criminal amount. Comments are closed.
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May 2023
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