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This Poet
by
YS
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I swear this death's incredible Taste of my blood, so edible I'll make my impression last on you Cause your last lover was forgettable I wish I could come and touch your lips Take you to heaven on my fingertips Singing rock, being goth wearing Tribals f*cking b*tches, Icing stitches, Burning bibles This Poet has died Remember the words and the tears that he cried I've been gone for a long-long time now Used to write poetry but I rhyme now All the years that we spent are wasted Getting attached to a b*tch is a crime now So goodbye now, now I'm drinking I've been drowning without sinking I've been crying without blinking I've been acting without thinking Death of a poet it's a birth of a sinner Losing myself yet they call me a winner Death of a poet Birth of a sinner I'm losing, I'm losing this sh*t This Poet has died Remember the words and the tears that he cried
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