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Nov 2012
With every move I make
It's dieing to break free
It's trying to find a way
To take over me

As it rushes through me
I feel it take control
It has some sort of grip on me
Like I'm its little doll

I try to fight it back
With happy thoughts and ideas
But it is all no use
I am trapped by my fears.
This was one of the first poems I ever wrote, so I figured I would put it up
Willow-Anne
Written by
Willow-Anne
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