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Cry
of the ExGirlfriend,
Timothy Sullivan
A poem I made up in 5 mins
between a call.
cry's
at night and all she thinks
is how much luv just f*king stinks
says one thing, meens another
maybe he has found a lover
somone has swept him off his feet
an unseen foe she cannot beat
life's surreal, luv is false
she grips her arm to check her pulse
she was not told luv's such a task
she drowns her sorrows in a flask
cry's at night it's not the same
thier's no one thier to ease her pain
punch a wall and all she thinks
is how much luv just f*king stinks
wats with luv
it all bullshite messing us around
the only ones who don't get hurt are boxed up underground
safe to say its all good wen u think true luv u'v found
but the tables turn to easy our hearts break without a sound
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