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Andrew molder
Poems
Aug 2016
Untitled
That little boy sits all alone
On that same bench way to long
While they walk hands intertwine
All they do is judge
They have no clue
What he goes threw his mind
Popping pills
Just to make it to tomorrow
Talk to someone
When Music screaming suicide
Written by
Andrew molder
30/M/Cedar rapids ia
(30/M/Cedar rapids ia)
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