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Think before you tell meI'm not pretty,
I need an escape, all of this pain bottled up inside of me. Tears waiting to burst out. I've cried a river, but there's still an ocean left. Hurt and confused. Life is a living hell, can't you see?
If my heart had a quill and an inkwell, ’Twould scribble without end, night and day. Had it but a voice, it would sing, tell All, everything I would say.   But my restless pen gets set down, how
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