Another day crawled by,
more clouds crept through the north Texas sky,
another painful misstep shaped my path
as I wallowed in the scarring and the aftermath.
And, now, you're telling secrets.
Now you're telling lies,
and I'm in my room waiting for all my days to pass me by.
To all my forgotten acquaintances,
I wish you all the best.
May your paths be lined with riches,
may you one day find your rest.
Crush my hands and fingers,
curse my every waking breath.
It's amazing how you love your blindfold,
how you're so afraid of death.
And this is not an ending,
this is not the start.
There is something, sundering, rending -
may we all be torn apart.
To all my unwanted acquaintances,
I wish you, as well, the best.
Should my path be lined with ashes,
I hope that one day I will find my rest.
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