The Past

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Addicted to alcohol and poetry
I blame the girl that almost killed me
I blame the father that was never there
I blame the love that didn’t care
Poem after poem but I always fail
to tell the story I’ve always wanted to tell
Phoenix, Arizona and thirty five pills
I never felt so free and so real
Months later the devil’s trying to make a deal
I’ve always had a thing for the way darkness makes me feel
The beginning of Valentine’s Fall
I don’t care if you never follow or call
I’m interested but I’ll never give my all
Manic depressive to the last
You don’t wanna hear about my past
You don’t wanna know the real me
It’s really scary

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