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Death of Hope

Like a drunk
running with scissors 
I'm liable to slice myself to bits 
When in a funk
looking in the mirror

I figure it’s better coming from me
Honesty hurts less…
no quicker than false hope
In good times everybody gets close

Riding my vibe when I’m in the zone
They all want to get high with me
But I always get low alone

Injecting disdain in my veins
Feeling bitterness flow through me
I prepare for battle
Knowing I’m usually my own worst enemy

When looking at the world
through shit stained glasses
Blindness distorts the truth
and strengthens bad habits

The stench of reality
makes my eyes water
The slaughter of pride
Leads to hope’s untimely murder
Written by bklynpoet
Published
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