Cutting me to the end
My insides become duds
Replaced with rose buds
Rapidly growing
They all begin crowing
Walking around as a corpse of love
Vulnerable as a flesh of dove
My emptiness replaced
Thrown out like toxic waste
The only thing curing my sickness
Is your mental illness
The unhealthy potion we devour
Makes these buds turn into flowers
The beauty behind our darkness
Will leave us heartless
So If we part
It shall turn to art
And a smile will rise
In our own demise
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