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Aint It Grand

by

Matt Dotson

Iím broken
Every ounce of my heart has been crushed
Words spoken
I thought my soul had been touched
Disappointment
Soul shattered, years wasted, days withered into nothing
Resentment
Open wounds, burning salt, rage overwhelming
Empty
Screams echo from this baron land I call my mind
Lonely
While grasping tightly to this false sense of security Iíve come to find
Nothing
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
Inhaling
Only to find that Iím short of breath
Suffocation

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