Journals1
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attempt to write poetry #1
1 min read
You don’t have to bring flowers to my grave and tell me how sorry you are.
Your guilt will soon turn into anger and you will scream for me to come back to life.
But your sorrow will go away eventually and after a small eternity it’s like I’ve never existed at all.
But my gravestone will still tell you that I lie underneath this cursed ground waiting for my soul to find peace where my body couldn’t.
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