| Dream poacher, you list it in a hailstorm of flies,
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| the maggots sung under your pen in every word you wrote.
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| Bait for the crows, taunt the hungry when they call out for me,
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| Never learner, still running that broken mouth of ours over broken promises.
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| Masquerade with the walking dead, you don’t look the same.
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| Abscess face with narcotic slouch, you weren’t built this way.
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| They took dead aim; |
| exposed evidence; |
| they washed their hands of this ordeal.
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| Silenced your pleas; |
| «Some can’t be saved.»
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| Bankrupt soul, you dove headfirst into a shallow grave
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| What drove you to this?
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| Now this guilt will plague my nights
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| Dream burner, I never said that you were a lost cause.
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| «Never better,"still running away on a crooked path, as crooked as your spine.
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| Empty shell of someone I once knew, you don’t speak the same.
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| Slipping back into familiar coma, you won’t die in vain.
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| I’ll carry your dead weight till I fall victim to my own vices.
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| Dead weight, I’ll cart yours till I fall flat on my own face.
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| Still trying to kill all the ones you claimed left a hole in your perfect life.
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| still running way from the only arms who wanted you was one.
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| And you were the only good thing left in this good for nothing town.
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| Help me clean my filthy conscience, so I can get on with my pointless life.
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| And you were the only good thing left in this good for nothing town. |