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The ink in my pen refuses to coordinate with the thoughts in my head

It has been so hard to write what's on my mind , when I do it's plain red

It surges through my body and pulses through my veins

I'm so tired of taking the clean way out why can't anyone else take the reigns ?

I used to write about who was the reason I woke up with a grin

I used to write about who made me straighten my morals and question my sins

I used to write to write about everything from the roots to the branches of a tree

So why won't anyone write about me ?

Why won't anyone write about how emptiness fills my hollow shell

Or how if numbness doesn't course my body I'd be screaming like I'm burning in hell

Write about my lost soul in the sea of insanity and rage

How being 6 feet underground seems like just the beginning of my page

Speak of the desperation in my gasps as I fight to breathe

When I'm stormed by the memories and it's to overwhelming to see

Speak of the constant buzzing in my body and head

How I'm not even close to comfortable even when I'm lying on my bed

My eyes write about me in the inked tears they send streaking down my cheeks

My heart aches for me and all those regrets , a new life and some closure it seeks

Write about the paleness of my face and the dimness of my eyes

Write about the darkness under my eyes and how I've shrunk massively in size

I've written about beauty , honesty , equality and love

But none of those writings seem to be enough

I'll write about agony and remorse that won't let you be

I'll write about pulling a trigger to your own head , I'll write about me

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