Death By Thought

Deep as the vein could go,
Right through the bend,
The opposite color of snow,
I wait, the flow does not end,
Loving, hating, but still I care,
When will this river cease,
Wondering why so far I dare,
To meet the bend with this gushing crease,
Lying feeling the pounding of the waves,
From the marks forever left from a blade,
Slowly drifting away on the stairs, oh so near,
Jerking from the massive flow of red fear,
A noise I hear like the breaking of a cup,
Once again I wake up.

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