Spite

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I pushed and pushed

No semblance of freedom lived within that glance

No more nights of bitter laughter and empty feelings

Once again, lost in your spite

Couldn’t take it, could you?

So forlorn, no more aspirations to disregard

Heated scalpel on a cool, desolate night

Cauterized, or so it seemed

A searing death, deeper than a canyon of fates

Forget me, forget survival

I’m just another useless acquaintance

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Heather M.