Let the rose die, it was never red anyway.

Poems, I suppose just stuff I think of at early hours or during a break.
All bunged up into one small book.. A mix of everything! Truly unique♥♥.

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4. You.

 

Your face reminds me of darker times, subtle scars and suicide.

Your voice is the remnant of the past me, who was crushed,
belittled,
naive.
Your eyes pierce who I am, prevent me from being who I want to be.
Taunting me for being me,
mocking me, 

questioning what i've seen.
I resent you,
You remind me of who I used to be.

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