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Death Meet What You Stand For to Me.
Lying on death,
She would call this emotion,
Overtime death would pop into her brain,
She tried to restrain her tears into her pocket,
Everyday death would feed her fears to reality,
At least she thought,
A wind beneath the clouds the crowd would sing when this girl would come in without tears around her pupils,
Her fingernails grew sour and thin,
When she would bight in avoidance of giving death a blacked out eye,
Death.
She sought,
Constant worry,
Doubt runs through out my veins,
“Anxiety?”
Yes it would appear,
Your name is death now,
At least to me,
You cause enough pain to relate the same rate as a physical injury,
I call you this so people will actually turn with a pocket full of concern,
Giving me their hand,
Helping me up out of my deathlike cycle,
Of teenage years,
Death/ Anxiety/ Stress/ Naturally?
Sorry,
I get you mixed up ever since anxiety took my mental invisible society.
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