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Youths eyes oversee truth Captained by a world of hatred Too young yet too old A thin line of reality “To me, the greatest pleasure of writing is not what it's about, but the inner music that words make.” Truman Capote

Monday, February 1, 2010

I'm wallowing in my own self defeat
crying to the long lost footsteps of past
I plead with you to come back
But no one will return my lost echo

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