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Cyanide
All this feeling is pushing me to the brink
I can't bear it, this feeling of uselessness,
It taints me, it is me, this is the charade used too impress
This is me the hate, the rage, the denial, the feeling
This is the only thing I can accomplish, too swallow
this pill, that he said would help me rid myself of the feelings,
No, this thing has last breath, death written on
it in blood as I look for the crimson liquid's owner I see the body, what's left anyway
It's bloody pool giving way to it's former host, which seems too have been harvested for body parts,
It looks like it was a good harvest there seems to be less than yesterday's
All because he denied this pill, this white pill encased in a crimson chrysalis, this pill that will take the feeling away
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