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Her grip was like claws around my throat dragging me down making me ebb away into the distance.    She sat on my pillow every night and asked me what she was doing there why she had always been there.
Vivid pictures; envision a soul, lost in the thoughts that'd keep a grown man cold, poor kid, just 16, livin in hell, fightin demons while he deals with the swells,  of all the dangers and how cops fancy the cells,
Take me to The Land of Childhood. For in Childhood no one dies. Everyone lives, laughs, and loves. There is music and wonder in the air That you cant help but to believe in things you can't see.
I wake up to the warm morning sun. Already has this terrible moment begun? Outside the window I see many individuals pass, And out on the pavements that’s where they express their wraths.
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