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The Cycle
My neck is bruised,
My lips are bleeding.
With tears streaming down
I pray for this feeling.
To be bitten in the shadows
And held under course hands.
Make me cry out in defeat
And feel useless in this world.
Slander my name.
Abuse my body.
Make me feel empty,
Then say that you want me.
Create beauty from my destruction.
Take the broken pieces,
And prepare them for your consumption.
I will be your disheveled muse.
Provide me with nothing but pain,
And a lifetime of booze.
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