My own life
So insignificant
From my pity to sorrow
They all posses the same light
I do wish
For a rust blade
A serene forest to run red
Will their understanding grow
Can their empathy blossom
For this hunger is a weed
Feeding off my soul
I must take the pesticide
And let the flowers feed off my blood
I have run them dry
Just as life has run me
I ride my sorrow
Like a peasant begs
I cannot choose but I happily receive
I am ravenous for relief
A noose to choke my cries
A blade to numb my mind
Perhaps this is best
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