You hang, loving all of your misery, hurt crying
nailed on a bed, and comfort is two rocks,
you bash against, chained in all your shame.
Eyes drip blood, it's as real as laughter,
Sleeping on the bed with your on brown spikes,
Bruised, torn, and pink moss dripps, onto
The strile linoleum waxed floor.
You on your wall of shame dripping red drops of you,
my keys rattle, the doors left ajar, oven red,
you drip, as he trips over you, breaking his neck.
And you are left hanging, only then do you stop laughing.
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