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warrior MAG
i wake up in the morning.
mind gone.
vision fogged.
toes numb.
lips chapped.
one more day.
just one more.
they have
the nerve to
slur these
words
in the name of a
faceless whisper.
a whisper who
crushes my
nicotine-scratched lungs
with claws
of no mercy.
a whisper
which snips at
my sapphire
veins who
have refused
to give up.
they won't give up.
i won't give up.
my hairbrush
knows my faults,
but my father
taught me
not to lie,
and therefore
i wake up in the morning.
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