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There's no fresh air around here anymore and if there were, the hope it would provide
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You must not speak of this anymore How I keep going back
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There's my sister with her adolescent ill-concealed contempt A brave sort of impatience that I haven't found my place
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My chest is crushed by this... by the convulsions made more stinging by the self-forged chains
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Do you know what KILLS me? You would make a terrible birder.
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I do not love idols Not humans, that is for sure
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When they left the party The punch bowl was nearly empty
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Guarding a still-empty tomb A wingless angel in an off-white robe prepares to push a stone away
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Sweet sixteen An April baby just coming of age
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He knows both sides,
or rather, both layers
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I dream and dreaming is all I have for certain
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Please critique this...I'm not happy with it.
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One-oh-three on empty
One-oh-seven full
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What if I cannot finish the year?
What if I let no one interfere?
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A dragonfly is attracted to water. Pure, clean, unadulterated water. You don't see dragonflies swarming around muddy or polluted ponds.
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Have I been blinded by one side or blindsided by the other?
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If I had known how to love you without sacrificing myself
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Begrudging survival Opposing God's will
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When April is hidden Camouflaged
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I spit up blood again yesterday. It could have come from anywhere.
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Instead of being a supportive detriment
advocating the presence of a well-meaning heart
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When I am alone, as I am,
It's when I truly feel
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I am energetic
because I am battling restless sleep with caffeinated compensation
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