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Maybe a game of poker,
A show or a dance.
She’s there every night
With eyes full of romance.
A dreamer, she stays ther..
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The guilt of imperfection. God, how I wish I were stronger. It's unbelievable how many times I catch myself thinking these words, so loudly in my head..
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A testament to the feelings I've been considering lately, pulled into a story line I'd like to say isn't my own.
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That rage, a maddening hum that doesn't ever really stop, hangs in the air. Like white noise in the static radio, it continues, not stopping for anyon..
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The forest enfolds me.
It is full of green pigment. Right above me, where the sun peeks through the
fresh leaves, there is a shimmering chartreu..
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Three letters, three words, too much meaning. But it makes so much sense out of...e v e r y t h i n g. Why I over-think everything. Why my mother's de..
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How do I put it in words? How do I say how I feel?
The guilt
is there, definitely. I’m starting to feel numb about it all, remarkably. ..
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Just a Net copy of things I write journal-wise.
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