Beginning to End

 

 
These stanzas give me a form of outlet. They protect me- these little letters stare back at me, and they know how exhausted I am. Know how much I love them. Hate myself. They are aware that their very existence is based off of you, and they are not kind to me because of it. You come harsher to me now, you make me suffer. Why is my life full of suffrage?

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