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Staring at myself from the outside,
looking in.
A black widow crawls out of my mouth
and down my bloody chin.
I am suspended with bed sheets
constricting my throat.
Hanging from the bars in the window,
watching myself decompose.
Perception without confinement,
distorted interpretations.
Washed away by the blood
that runs from my flesh, a vision of death.
What I saw through the eyes of my flesh,
just a glimpse of what lies beneath the surface.
I can see through the blindfold,
shedding light on the lies that my eyes told.
Death embraces me tighter
than my life ever did,
cradling my weary soul.
Filling the void, filling the hole.
I always had that feeling in the back
of my head,
the feeling that I would be better off dead.
No home, nowhere to go,
only an empty world to roam.
So desolate and cold, I am alone.
Bloated and rotting, the rats feed on my flesh.
To them I leave my inheritance.
They digest and shit me out,
returning my flesh to the earth.
Returning my flesh to the earth,
bloated and rotting.

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