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The white walls are so smallThey close my thoughts As I think of suicide thoughts my innocents rots Pierced by a hand not familiar to my own I’m seating in a room with no walls My thoughts are still at a roamDeath Language whispers bitter songs The words are always symptoms to aloneStaring into space outside a window with no existence This room is senselessBeing restless, I lay on the gritty floorAfter a hit and another someone opens the doordeeper meaning then just suicide do you understand this or no?
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