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Post by twistedangel on Jan 26, 2017 3:41:06 GMT -5
Nervous nib strikes paper for nought wrote theses past moons tired of self of cliché diary thoughts of a cliché life
Who wos I kidding piss poor poetry could save souls me disease of Nothing
Tucked away somwhere in cyber space quiet man screams lonely girl cries a child in anguish at best a comment about improvement No one talks
Born alone to die alone Today We live alone
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