Well, it kind of hurts when the kind of words you say
Kind of turn themselves into blades
And the kind and courteous is a life I’ve heard
But it’s nice to say that we played in the dirt, oh dear
‘Cause here we are, here we are.

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Gone.

The sky is dark

Again.

The thunder

Ominous.

 

The rain falls

Cold, biting.

It washes me clean.

I feel my sorrows fade

I feel my past recede.

My muscles and sinews loosen

I flow away with the rain

Until there is nothing left –

To feel, to be, to want.

 

I am gone.

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