What Runs Through
By A Long Winter
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What we could have had.
What we could have been is now gone, tossed away.
With my stil beating heart.
Please.
Slice my wrists.
There's no feeling left anymore.
What I felt is gone.
Gone.
I waited around.
Bruises got blacker.
This cut is too deep.
I am gone.
I am gone.
And my heart with it.
Burn what's left of me.
Sacrifices made for you.
But is this my fault?
I am gone
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