Through The Window

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At home

Doesn't feel like home

More like a prison cell

With many things to kill time

But I choose my bed

Where it soaks up all my tears

My frustrations and hatred

Where winter blankets could choke the breathe out of me

And the walls paint my blood prints

That spell out

"I'm tired"

...

Entranced

By my window

It's pulling me in

To open it

To step foot in the frigid cold

With little to no clothing

To freeze my weak heart

Walking with no destination

As if I'm walking in my mind

...

I'm going to run out of tears soon

Searching for another way out

Bleeding

Or drinking

Or caressing knives

Or punching walls

...

If I'm destined to not make it

Can I know now

So I can stop killing time...

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