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Inside me is a story of struggles and pains Its wandered too far and deep in my veins The story in my veins is behind my blood and skin It travels throughout my body telling dark tales of sin
I'm far from okay, But at the sight of a blank page, my fingers are flying across the keys. Turning tears into words, and finding a peace long forgotten, poetry.
My love for fashion wildly grows, For everytime I walk into a store I cannot help, but buy more clothes; I shop, and shop until I snore. Blouses, skirts, and pants alike,
You cannot see the beguiling manner of those people You, an amiable person Them, a people of many faces You run past the boisterous crowds Only aiming to please Behind the false perfection,
My glassy Eyes - from Fires wrought - Were Stained with streaks of Night. Peculiar are these Eyes of Dusk Which dawn with Lack of Light-