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i want to hide in the cold, dead of night, away from soaked sheets and fresh scruff so i can cry in peace without feeling weak as my mind and soul tell me i am when i shed these endless bitter blood-red tears. i'm sorry i just don't wish to live; i just don't have it in me. it's what the time on the clock is telling me. tears aren't worth it— worth the air i am breathing so i'll quit one or the other; perhaps both.
