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"Will you sit there with a gun to your head?" You asked, regarding my Christmastime plans When this thrust I jokingly deflected You spread it that I would do myself in Letters arrived from long-lost family Each extending a hand at your behest A sister's note handwritten from pity Expressed sorrow I'd be killing myself Sorry to say I'd no such intentions My suicide being what you hoped for It was then I broke communications Able to deal with the horror no more Your alcohol and madness and evil To survive I must escape from them all |
