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My voice is blistered by her call
the instigation of it all
she stands and laughs at my graceless fall
and yet her voice is just a whisper

Guided by the falsities
alarmed by her atrocities
enacted with voracity
my word is just another blister

I don't regret the choices made
as the images exonerate and fade
slipped into this false parade
from the moment that I kissed her
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