whatever we need to believe to abate our prideful suffering

poetry

it’s not a good day unless i’m crying

about how i left my friends behind

so they could get murdered

because i’m racing the devil

like someone asked me to

come back for them

when i figure it out

but i’ll never figure it out

then someone else will take speed

and leave me behind

where i’ll commence to tying

my mind in knots

trying to make it all make sense

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