Afraid that when I’m sober, it’s the end of it all

Born on October, that’s when I’ll see myself fall

It’ll all be over, not to answer the call


Snapshot of a noose

Guilty for the abuse

The road to only produce

White snow, sip it like juice

No, that’s the wrong way to use


Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,

I for sure won’t be caught

Try to escape the thought,

But the door is on lock


Break it down a bit

You’ll fail, don’t worry

Just rest and sit

Don’t rush this, you’re not in a hurry


Insanity is coming though

I hope you know

That once I’m around

You’ll be dead on the ground

Another poem for everyone (:


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