I'm Still Here
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I watch as my cold stiff body is lowered into the grave dug into the damp earth. I watch as my friends and family line up to throw a handful of dirt onto my simple black coffin, the smooth wood disguising the five gaping bullet holes in my chest. I watch my mother's hand shake like a leaf in the wind before she threw it, covering my face. How can you help someone if they think you're gone forever, is a lie really a lie if the person you're lying to can't hear it?
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