Ciaran Hyland


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The night sky shines on my little pain factory,
I turn my arm to see the blood vessels about to be sacrificed,
I take the blade laced with whatever had a skull on the bottle,
I cut and slice my depression‘s away giving myself my only pleasure,

Please just let me die in peace thinking of a black hole,
While these warm salty rivers are streaming down my face,
My breath is happy choking on this dry nothingness in the back of my throat,
As the crimson mess at my feet slowly grows in

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