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Mar 2019
You must stop this.
but for why?
How can I change,
I feel no bliss.

Who are you to judge?
You not a clue,
Of me or what I truly am.
But maybe shall I budge?

Should I express?
Open my mind,
reveal my interworkings.
No I refuse, I will not depress.
All is well, except no name for my poem.
Written by
Luke  17/M/Texas
(17/M/Texas)   
223
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