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Walking Over My Grave
Folder:
poems You can see
How you pain
Me, but still
You do it.
Get some kind
Of devious pleasure
From my personal
Agony. Slowly you
Have killed me
and whatever remained
Of my confidence.
Left my heart
In tattered shreds,
A fragile state
Of what they
Used to be.
So finish me
Off. Think of
A suitable punishment
for doing nothing
wrong, you are
good at doing
That. Once it
Is all over
You can walk
Over my grave.
