Frustration
Frustration has made my veins go ice cold,
the redness in them cannot be pumped
Frustration has made my veins go ice cold,
the redness in them cannot be pumped
bleakness is where my sun sets and rises
my body craves it, it does not like movement
I can see paradise from the peripheral view of my dying eyes
I can almost touch it with my static hands
I can almost taste it at the tip of my burning tongue
All I need
All I ever need
is the gentlest push
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