He takes a piece of himself – the rather Suicidal part, actually
They never truly understood, and why on earth should they?
And places it right by the settled edge of a crooked old chair with cough – inducing dust pained upon strong
Every known corner appears to breathe of its tantalised own
Where the courage will need to be just blinding, quite typical indeed
His mind has finally done away with any of these silly dreams
Or grandiose, ego – inhabited versions of himself, that was then and this, God bless, is now
The remainder was tragedy on slip – slide ice – here you are, eccentric, try and exist to breathe
The gargantuan mangled rope has been long since fixed against the snoring chunk of mammoth wood
Which lies and lives a little further out of reach
Courage to self – sabotage
Dastardly overhead – like before, he will search and attempt to imagine right the whole way back, as best he shan’t to remember when he was but a child of nine
When time had a surefire tendency to freely unleash and run away with itself, from itself, goddamnit – just wonderful almost – memories right there in the blink of a tired, seriously silenced eye
He wishes to have seen the prettiest of things
None too dungeoned – off by these agonisingly breached once far simpler surroundings of his homegrown own
The rope snuggles right round his precious neck to cause a final crack – both friend and foe holds the ultimate vote
The manic boredom took a ferocious about – to – be choke – hold of him soon as they seemed to sit much closer and to propose for him to be all better
The pain upset him the most today

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