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Bitter comes the hour, 

softly screaming for the winter, 

will it really matter when you hit her, 

will it matter when she goes. 

 

Fall down you lift her, 

the touch of skin sooths her,

when you were just about to lose her, 

when you were just about to fall.

 

Mistrust her,

do you really think her,

to be the one to really seep through

to be the one who always wrong

 

You wait for the last moment,

when your mind just choose that,

to be the time when all the Prozac 

can take you to the floor

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ForeverLonely's picture

This could be really good. I

This could be really good. I suggest tweaking a bit, to better flow your words. Also, I would double check grammar and spelling. Over all, I like the feel of it.