I wish that God had turned his head and let me arrive alive dead,It's curl but he played me out as a fool
Never once or did get or receive or believe in
Nothing in me
To even think of of the world that would even believe in me
It's like poetry rhymes with no reasons
Lines with too many seasons
A poet no just a jester
Pushing me to the point of nothing after
Why me I think we would all agree
For I will look to the ground that's where my pieces will be found
For they broke the mold
Four this story end's short
for the sun is almost down
Cold ground 6 feet down
Ever-loving ground.
T.O...8:20 preceding midnight...

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