getting over it

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Curtains and ceilings are the TVs of late night thought trains When you can’t think straight When your mind draws blanks All the patterns are signals Made up
In a last minute tribute to you, sir, I write this poem. Hopefully, then I'll be able to go on.   It started when I first laid eyes on you.   It was a Wednesday evening,
fuck that cat with two fists covered in molten lead If I had a nickel for every day I spent in hell,                 It would be the last three years with my ex-girlfriend. I don’t know what that equates to,
I find myself telling all my business on the internet but only if you can't hear me. I can't know if you've seen this and I hope like hell you won't realize who it's about.
Okay, that's enough of that I think that my mind has finally had enough of you I'm so very done with your shit (Pardon my language) In truth, I'm not even sure if It's your shit I'm done with
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