Josh Alfred (02/27/89)
Corruption maketh bruise.
Laughter cuts deep.
Why is it thou must amuse
Thyself as I weep?
Are there misdeeds upon this heart,
That thou must harshly perverse my soul?
Since when did peace depart?
What of thine have I ever stole?
I wish not to cause thee pain,
Yet somehow I think I do.
Or is it that thou veins contain,
That which is so wickedly untrue?
Deep colors of hatred
Does the abuser spread.
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