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You think you can relate by reading my poems,
But trust me when I say that you do not know.
Just letters forming words on a once empty page,
Saying all the things you lack the courage to say.
For you this all stops when you read the last line.
Do you really think it ends, that I just put it behind?
You think I write for you but this ain't for the fans.
I write because I'm trying to find out who I am.
Going through the Rorschach but all I see are these words
Taunting me like demons, pulling me to their world.
I wish I could escape them but I do not know how.
The ink is in my veins and has full control now.
Dont read between the lines or go looking for clues.
These wars that I wage they are not fought over you.
You cant stand in my position or understand my thoughts,
You're merely reading words but cannot feel the loss.
If its a test of my patience how much must I endure?
When I look ahead to tomorrow its all so obscure.
The only way to help me is to listen when I speak.
Dont think you can fix me or lift me when Im weak.
Ive made my own disaster, all this rain falls from my eyes.
The darkness that enshrouds me becomes my own disguise.
Now this is where it ends, at least the part youre reading.
But for me the poem continues until my heart quits bleeding.
November 20, 2012
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