Losing all my trust,
yet I still believe you,
admitting my defeat.

You have lied,
many times before,
and you still told me things,
no body knows.

Showed your true colours,
but never showed your face.
Flirt with the thought of death,
somehow you were stopped,
but this time,
nothing stands in the way,
except for a bottle of rum,
a golden pen and a writing you'll never understand.

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