the perfect war

the perfect war battles on each day with weapons so sweet and blood so red. rivers and rivers of frosty red blood, still frothy from the sign of victory. a finger down my throat or a knife on my skin- what's the difference? it's all the same to me in the perfect war that engulfs this body. starve for a day to feel the pain that lies so peacefully on my tongue. kill the voices in my head before i kill myself. rip my soul out of my flesh and throw it on the dusty ground. stomp out the hatred� stomp out the fear� stomp out the suicide thoughts� stomp out the dreams. and don't stop until the perfect war is over. because perfection lies even in the end.

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