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Untitled

Smoke enters my lungs and I begin to travel into a another world. One without any worries and without any fears. I don't feel corrupted by society here. Maybe that's what I visit so often. I can hear the padded voices of my mom and dad asking me to come back.

" Were sorry" They say.

We're sorry that this happened to you.

I can't come back. My brain tells me no. Don't leave. I'm trapped. And I like that.

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Written by
zeta
Norwegian
Published
May 19, 2013
Lines·Words
4·80
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