There's a garden on the edge of it
It's a sedative, but truth be told I'd rather not be all that awake while I get through all this
It tears at my clothes, soften my cheeks to the point where I feel my face is full of holes
Holes that she shoots in through
Leaves dreams in my head bigger than the anticipation of an exit wound
I'm in too deep, a heart in a swimming pool suspended in chlorine and surrounded by concrete
I fear that this love will make a sickness out of me
A disease born from an unthinking mind following a heart too willingly
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