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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Psychology · #772779
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SOCIOPATH

Lost is my tongue for a kind word to say
On this the most dreaded of any one day

Forgotten to my mind are all things well
My evils are welts and always they swell

Hunger for blood drives me eyes open wide
Causing destruction feeds my enormous pride

And I shall kill anyone being in my path
Feeling as I should, all must suffer true wrath

“Murder!” they shout to me from the far edge
And somehow I have found myself at a ledge

Down below are the ants who will catch me
Gone again from the restraints of my IV

- Poet Darká
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