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My sister was an amazing poet. She wrote everything she felt, emotions and physical hurt. Recently, my mother found her hanging from the ceiling holding this in her hand:

Ropes and broken hearts

Why did you run away,

Regret me, neglect me in that way.


I gave you my heart, what did you do?

You broke it into two.

I'm questioning myself, am I that ugly?

As I grab the rope snuggly.


I've never cried like this, I never haven't.

It's sad, it's tragic.

I wish you could see

I wish you would love me!


But I should have known,

You would never love me so.


This is the end, I could never bear,

Being without you my dear.


Please just one last request may I share?

Don't break another heart, as I kick the chair.



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