Empty

Without thought
exiled from passion
days spent distraught.
Living with a life-less fushion
it doesn't burn.
I don't know what is real,
Life doesn't always take the right
turn.
It lacks the right feel
The cold seeping through the
window sill
Oh the burn in my fingers, do it I
cry
Or just take a damn pill,
When people say their okay, it's
really just a bitter lie.

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