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The End of My Days

A Fuck You, but in Poetry

The end of my days will come from jumping off a cliff for you. But really you pushed me off.

I know your twisted ways. Where a friend's a friend until you're done. 

You're the type of person that cuts through the line. And the people are your game pieces. You move them around to find a win. But maybe you don't realize that you win. You're entertainment. It's my loss. 

Or maybe you just don't care.

I don't fucking understand why you think it's okay to throw me into a fire. I know you apologized, but the burns don't leave with an "I'm sorry." 

Endless burns that always hurt. And that's not okay.

So don't you dare pretended that you're the band-aid. You're the sole reason that something needs healing.

You screw everybody else over for your walk of fame.

Take that long walk of fame over a short pier.

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