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Oct 2015
Stop pretending
you're something you're not.
You're treading on flesh you'll never touch.
You're playing with words
at your own expense.
This pen can't even puncture the surface.
What makes you think
they'll respect the scratches it left?
Quit before it's too late.
Give up and call it fate.
You were never destined for greatness.
Written by
what a waste
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