myownpoetry

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What Am I Worth? Just A Fuse Or Dust. Maybe I Need To Find Ones Self. Cry Each And Other Day  Or Their Just Really Wet Sobs. Can I Ever Be Happy? Maybe Have A Glorious Day Or Is It About Finding Oneself.
you stalk about slowly upon the middling carpeting legs prowling, jaw protruding back hunching, gut oozing   a bitter antagonistic energy seeps through the walls and floors traps awaiting, lessons daunting
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