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Jan 2017
January 1st, 2017.
Another year of survival passed.
Another 365 days lived.
A bullet dodged each day for 12 months.
A mask worn for 31,536,000 seconds.
So I take it off,
Pick up my shovel,
And deepen the trenches.
Then I sit on a throne of obsidian,
And bid myself goodbye for another year,
As I lock myself away,
And put my mask back on.
Wordfreak
Written by
Wordfreak  23/M/Denver, CO
(23/M/Denver, CO)   
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