Protected: Monday – NaPoWriMo #27

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Samantha

Hyperbole, the scars ripped and widening,
Silencing the pulse she hid behind a screen
Of sharp dulling whiskey and menthol cigarettes.

She tried to hide the smell but it still lingered on her breath,
Less impressed with herself but still harbored aspirations despite the fact that motivation had creased her and seen cessation.

She stayed up nights and cried,
Desperately wishing she had not survived but died,
Instead of living to make the world know the way she feels inside.