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One day, a while ago, the sun was shining a bit too bright for my eyes, and for fear of not being able to see and to protect my face, I put sunglasses on. And well, you see, I am still wearing them.
Why don't you paint me like I am? Dancing and singing Full of life Always looking for adventure, never looking for trouble With close family and friends by my side Why don't you paint me Like I am
I could say I write because it is an outlet, a way to release anger from a broken past and broken family. I could say I write because my mom was not there, because sometimes I write to convince myself that I don't hate her.
Look up at the sky, what do you see? I see a bird looking down at me. What does it see when it looks at me? Nothing, as I see nothing in me.   Why do you not have any hope?
Away in her room, the little maiden sits, Sent there for throwing too many fits. Her brunette locks rest on her broad shoulders and cascade down,
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