I cannot carry on,
Drifting beneath the canopies,
I pass a rotting song bird,
A sign as the sun sets for the last time,
In search of a home for my bones,
I've torn myself apart,
Over something I can't fix,
I reminisce over past days gone by,
Shedding a teardrop for blood,
Thriving off my own decay,
When I'm forgotten,
You'll be given the comfort you needed,
A warm place to stay,
As my days remain grey,
Though before I'm gone,
I mark these words in stone,
Engraved with one thousand razor blades,
In scathing blood, my body swayed.
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