Last Leg of My First Race
you threw the blood in my face. red paints these aching walls. those were times of faltering lies. when our tongues spoke in spite. i burnt you to a crisp. the guilt was hard to swallow. but you will be reborn and i will soon follow. what can be brought back? when the weight makes it hard to back track. you threw the blood. right in my face. left ashamed. daunted by the aftertaste.
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