Feather Hi-Stainless
In a 45° angle pointed to left wrist
I extracted the flowing red gelee
I tried to hang myself
With a thin black tie
I tied it to the gym bar
It got painful and I fought back
So maybe it was still too soon to die?
As I try to live, I am not as myself, but am I somebody?
Am I just clinging to earth with this facade of lies?
When was it that I had become so bad at living?
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