Hope

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And I prayed to God.

To just take me with him,

I don't think he exist.

But there was hope.

"Kill me... Please! "

"Take me with you!

But there wasn't an answer.

And I cried,

Staining the rug with liquid pain

And carving my skin, hoping to

feel his hands take me.

But there wasn't an answer.

I lost some hope, with a part of myself.

Maybe he took it?

Maybe if I continue I'd disappear?

But he doesn't exist.

So if he isn't killing me, who is?

" I beg you"

Softly spoken, a whisper.

But there wasn't an answer.

I lost hope, I lost myself.

He wasn't killing me.

I was.

And still

"Thank you"

But that wasn't me speaking,

It was just the echo of my own hope leaving my empty body.

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