I twist in the night, in anger.

I wake in the morning, in anger.

I know the dreams are just dreams 

but the aching is tangible, 

it’s at the forefront that I can’t shake.

It’s too early to feel this way, with holes punctured through the heart. 

A feeling that I’ve been used as target practice.

Congratulations, you’ve won…

You’ve robbed me yet again from waking with the deli...

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