Wailing as falling and also burning so cherishing as if twirling through molten lava was not enough.
Gripping and stroking my reflection so much blood from the concrete drinking each slurping splash that flys off my lips.
One hitting such a strong wall , my skull being dead was not something for talking.
I go beyond life and death does it constantly bounce me through ?
Boiled by heat the first disabled force struck.
Helping was not definition.
My mom told me to stay calm
So holding in my trial is what she told.
I'm a f.u.cking murderer and I need more .. so here me wipe a fierce F.U.CKING ROAAARRRRRR
*sounds of bunsen burners are heard*
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Hope you enjoyed my poem ;D