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Jul 2016
I used to think
That I was too broken to be fixed.
That someone had taken the simple pieces
Of machinery
That reside in my chest

And bent the metal
And broke the cogs.
But it turns out
This is just who I am.
A drunkard with a pen.
Speaking Sorrow
Written by
Speaking Sorrow  23/North Carolina
(23/North Carolina)   
158
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