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christy-james
Look into the blackness of my soul, It's cold and lonely with nothing to hold. No where to grip so you slip into the salt of my lacrimal gland. Back out you roll and mix into the dirt imbedded in my hand, You feel the warmth of a once loved man.
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Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 5:55 AM UTC
Untitled