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We Might As Well Be

I can’t wake up from this nightmare we’ve made
 from love, distrust and our desperate son—
   the loneliest creature; broken homemade.
     what didn’t I do and what have you done?
       sorry to inform you, you’re not the one—
         you spoke to me in a backwards fashion
           trading some misplaced anger for passion
             displaced once more with the hate you would hide,
               I opened my heart and you threw trash in
                 if god is love, then let death be our guide.

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