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All pain to ballpoint ends as the death toll continues to reach upwards.
Every crescendo marked in upheaval of everything that isn’t a scar broadcasting pain survived or a collapsed vein and the number of overdoses is still increasing, and with it the number of people that feel like they should have overdosed with them.
Every letter typed in hurt innocence and bargains with GOD to get our friends out of heaven and every fraction of a dollar that went towards the vodka we poured into the ground in loving memory of the people God selfishly didn’t want to give back to us, everything we spend and every day we spend it with every meticulously chosen hour lived tentatively for those that couldn’t be here and those that might not as well be here, all these words for a pause that still hasn’t stopped and the number of overdoses is STILL climbing.
All pain to ballpoint ends and all there is at the end is a pause.
Jared Spring is a young poet/musician/songwriter and this is debut in Painted Brain News