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F.O.B

I’m always the last to know. My insides are copper and I’d kill to make them gold. Conversation got me here: another night alone in the city. So make my bed the grave and shovel dirt onto my sheets.
This is me standing in the arch of the door hating that look that’s on your face that says there’s another fool like me. There’s one born every minute.

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About Humbug

My past has a way of making my present feel jealous of the future.

3 responses to “F.O.B

  1. Alice

    whoaaa….! some powerful writing that is…! did life dump you in the ditch?

  2. Alice

    love ur spirit…

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