And I hate, detest, and I
kill him, pressing his neck between my hands, pressing
his Adam's apple to cut your
circulation. I want to boot your skin
with my nails with my teeth
;
destroy their insides with my eyes
and his moral conscience suffer,
suffering as I am suffering. Argh.
How I wish, in a second
hope
kneel down before me, begging for mercy;
and my lips would make a single word,
the same every time he mentioned
that my name was on his mind:
deluded. We look with anger, disgust for the spec
regrettable obstacle would be offering me
again and I would
around. What would
well, dying,
as I left so many times, but I could not help
drop a tear
to remind myself in this situation
wrapped in sheets
dirty watching it was dawn.
No. Enough. Now my turn.
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