Gra Breoite


Dear Jordan

I'm screwed up.
Didn't you know?
I'll just hide old scars with new excuses.
And call the headlights of cars, stars.
Lay down and stare forever.
These waves of pain come in doses.
Like pain medication, like floating on an ocean.
Up and down, and over the top I'm still drowning.
I could just let it all take over.

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