My soul wilts; like a wilted flower.
My eyes tear; like a dripping faucet.
My heart is broken; and it will never heal. (until next week, when i get a new life partner)
I take the knife in my hand.
I press it against the soft flesh that my wrists posess.
I still recall the taste of your tears.
I died my hair black to match my tormented soul.
I weep for you
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<3 kris
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why dont you run home and bite your pillow!?!
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theyre like seventhgrade girls and put sharpie on their nails and make frowns and camera whore for the majority of the day -- pretending that theyre ""emo"" because of the music and consider themselves hardcore.
thats good stuff
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