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suicide is dumb.
Today is a day of celebration;
we will entertain ourselves
with mutilation and get drunk
off each other’s tears, conveniently
collected in fine wine glasses.
Laughing softly to ourselves
we go on about our daily routines,
blissful and not quite ignorant
of each other’s suffering. We’re
given the choice to slay the monsters
of ourselves with the knives that are
handed out every day at dawn,
but we continue to rejoice in ourselves.
The edges of those blades would be
far more suited to cutting out each others
hearts, rather than our own. Besides,
suicide is dumb.
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isn't it odd how nothing ever changes untill the day you look back and realize that nothing will ever be the same?
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