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My Turn
You said you didn't
want it to end.
Then you threw
the glass bottle.
Shattered against my skull.
You said you didn't
want me to leave.
Then you drew the key
across my arm.
Slitting my arm, drawing blood.
You have thrown your
last punch, my dear.
No longer will you
Hurt me.
It's over.
I have let you have
your way
for far too long.
Now it's my turn.
Now you will feel pain.
I won't resort to your leve
I won't hit you, or scream
I will only do
what hurts most.
I am leaving you.
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