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Jan 2018
Death pressed against his lips,
Drunken idiots they dance in the night,
Hands pressed against her hips,
Surrounded by drink and friends.

Death pressed against his lips,
Drunken idiots they drink in the night,
Sharing potent drinks in sips,
Surrounded by music and darkness.

Death pressed against my lips,
Inhaling deeply,
A smiling face then slips,
Yet you’ll never realise how,
If only you could see me now.
Jack
Written by
Jack  19/M
(19/M)   
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