It's a Bit Crowded

You purposely kept all that things correspondence. And tried to explain it away. Fucking really? 

Do you enjoy how much this hurts me?

Do you enjoy how that thing used you and then spit you out? Is that a happy memory for you? Is my crying?

I am tired of this thing haunting me. Evil cunt poltergeist. 

It will never go away; it's my cross to bear, apparently. 

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