500

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I'm dying in a couple days...
Metaphorically.

(Life. Wasted.)

And I feel as though my mind's run dry.

What am I?

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500 days would make or break me ;
But I prefer not to think
about the path that lies ahead,
even though I'm on the brink.

Staying up at night,
Forgetting life.
I don't want it to start.

Break away,
Lose myself.
Don't need to leave a mark.

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I try my best not to think ;
to push the thoughts away.
What shall become of us?
I know I'll be okay.

In some way-

I push the thoughts away.

(Life. Wasted.)

And in the late night's glow,
I no longer know.

I don't know.

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