When it happened,
I died a little bit more.
When the fighting started,
Life felt like a chore.
When the people started leaving,
I pushed them away.
When I was all alone,
I couldn’t feel the pain.
Why does this happen?
I can’t tell for sure.
Why is it me?
I guess life isn’t so pure.
So this is what happens,
This is what makes up,
What we call life.
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