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by Gervin Puse

It’s just one of those nights, slow and painful. Lighters brighter than ever and blades sharp and at the ready. Fighting the war I have inside my head, battlefield for one. I didn’t order this. Stealing away every drop of happiness that I have ever known. And trust me, I know that I’ve done some pretty bad things, more horrible than I could ever express and I have scars to prove it. Haunting myself with the repetitive words I’m told. But somehow it all doesn’t matter. Just a pointless scar that fades over time. Just another relationship that can never be fixed. Reminding you of every little thought pushing you further and further. Telling you how easy it would be to end it. Now. There seems to be no line between how I feel and sadness, it has slowly become me. There is no desecration between the dark cloud of smoke that surrounds my heart and the one of which society creates from the cigarettes of all the broken souls that ever existed. I am an iceberg just waiting to shatter, An ocean that is yet to be swum and a mountain to cold to accept strangers. It all just seems like one big blur. Unfamiliar territory that seems like home. I don’t even know who I am anymore and I guess I never did. A nobody slowly fading into nothingness. And if I leave, tonight, don’t believe what they say about the pills or the blades or where they found me. I was murdered by the indecency of rumors that spread, the small innocent mistakes that blow up into life size problems. I was taken by the voices in my head and lay to rest in the palms of society. And it all, and never was my choice.

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