black ink
in a brown journal
thoughts and secrets and true lies
fill pages with scribbles
keeping sanity in mind as a goal
the ink like blood from wrists
spilling enough pain to meet another bedtime, another tomorrow
Loneliness is what she dresses in
Loneliness is what she eats
Loneliness is the only friend that really gets her
but part of her knows Loneliness is a dangerous choice for friendship
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