Risk

ScornHeal my instability, My emotional fragility. Build up my self esteem, My sense of worth. Cure this malady of nostalgia; Broken record memories. I'm infested, but what can I say? I hate the world, I fear not death; I readily accept the offer. Spurned, I may be, But so are you. Detest, emotion which feels all too familiar, now, But you could never know. If only I believed in God Then I might have reason to pray. But what has He done for me lately-- ever? Save me, accept me into your faith; My presence will poScorn
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"Thought and language are to the artist instruments of an art." Wilde
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"Thought and language are to the artist instruments of an art." Wilde
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