If I meet one, and like 'um, that's how
it will be.
Everyone with a chance and a reason has
left.
If it wasn't for blood, I would end up
bereft.
People don't get to know me; they get
ready to leave.
If it bothered me much, I'd have no
time to grieve.
For a while I blamed it all on my
tattoo,
But the ink isn't cursed. It's just
what people do.
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