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Jan 2015
Something wasted,
Something ruined,
Something rubbed raw.

Goodbye to goodbyes.
They always turn sour.
Like your fingers after you've touched me.

**** on this.
**** on me.
**** it up baby,
Stop scraping your knees for my sympathy.
Circa 1994
Written by
Circa 1994  Florida
(Florida)   
388
   Juneau
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