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Apr 2018
When the crowd is turned on you,
and your last line of defense walks away,
and there's no place to call home
and the streets become too cold to stay.
I see you walking, never run.

When did you lose yourself, when did you go?
Always a question, but you never know.
So out of touch here! Mind miles away...
But you're dissonant dear, still not much to say.
So you hide behind your faery tales,
sing life is but a dream,
Then row your boat, first set your sails,
Into the blue you flee
Written by
   JL Smith
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