this swamp of emotions is not a swamp at all. it's anger and disbelief and stress and lust and regret. maybe that is a swamp, but who gives a damn?
nobody.
i want reach my hand into my chest, ripping my bloody beating heart right out and i want to tear my brain from my noggin and switch the two around and see how far that gets me.
my knees are bleeding because i dug my fingernails into them so that they would. it feels good to bleed. just to fucking feel alive.
but i am not alive. i've been deceased since the day i was born. my spirit still lays within the nooks and crannies of this town. and let me just tell you, you stupid reader, that you are wasting your time on me.
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