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Jan 2015
I remember dreading afternoons with empty stomachs.

Where we’re forced to be in each other’s faces and shove our mouths with lies and stop ourselves from breaking out the truth.

The truth that we’d rather suffer through wars within than find peace in each other.

The truth that we've gotten skilful in reconstructing our masks among others.

We've gotten ugly and our eyes will never meet.
Nora
Written by
Nora  23/Mars
(23/Mars)   
441
   SPT and Jamie King
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