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Aint It Grand


Matt Dotson

Iím broken
Every ounce of my heart has been crushed
Words spoken
I thought my soul had been touched
Soul shattered, years wasted, days withered into nothing
Open wounds, burning salt, rage overwhelming
Screams echo from this baron land I call my mind
While grasping tightly to this false sense of security Iíve come to find
Hours spent loathing in my room
Hating existence
To the thoughts of tomorrow and its doom
I give no resistance
Suffering within my own limits, fixed on death
Only to find that Iím short of breath

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