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Jacob Christopher
Poems
Jun 2015
Waste.
Just wasted days
and wasted pay.
All you've said was wasted praise.
Wasted time,
and wasted dreams.
Most of life's a waste,
it seems.
I'll waste away,
just smoking haze,
with every second I'll waste my brain.
Written by
Jacob Christopher
Buffalo, NY
(Buffalo, NY)
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Arlo Disarray
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