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The Poetry of Adam Clifford

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By Adam Clifford

My whole life is imaginary
no one exists
just figments
of my twisted imagination
my enemies sting me
but all my wounds
are self inflicted.
No one rejects me
I reject myself
hatred fills me
and the world
goes away one more time.
I wake up in a pool of blood
and ask,
am I dead, at last?

   AdamClifford©1997

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