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sleep poems.

So i now realise that its 4:03 in the morning, and im not suffering in the slightest. So many thoughts are racing through my head. Maybe i shouldnt of drank that much. Maybe i shouldnt of smoked that weed. Im 15 for christs sakes. If i was seeing other girls doing this idiotic shit, i'd be looking down of them so far, i'd be peering into their souls, and their excuses for doing the inhuman things they do. I dont have an excuse. I do things for the hell of it. Simply because it blocks out all the jocks, indies, nerds, and everyone inbetween. Fuck it, i'll run away. Please run away with me. Fuck, i must be delusional. It is 4:10 after all.
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Written by
little-wing
Australian
Published
Jul 28, 2012
Lines·Words
17·124
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