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by Diana Mar 2, 2006 category : Sadness, depression / about death
I sit in this room Its more like a prison I have asked you to leave But you never listen I have tried to sneak out But it always ends bad You always find out Then my face meets your hand I have no more options What you have done is worse than rape I don't take any caution Death is my only escape I make you your dinner With one ingredient more You said you were feeling nauseas They found you on the bathroom floor
by †Undone♥
I loved it, little sister!