Is this really love

This nagging in the back of my head

It screams out at me like a vulcher

Watching the already presumed dead

This breathlessness in the middle of the night

All those books had me so mislead

I should have known

But I guess I was looking for a little bloodshed

So maybe that's what makes it real

Marking love as your deathbed

All I know is that this bed has already been made


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