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Jun 28
My mind is windy,
So cold in storm.
Thoughts so violent
They scrape and scorn.
Illness of those
Who freak and fret,
Led to temptation
Of permanent rest.
Locked in frustration
Of guilt and regret.

Succumb to hatred from birth to death.
Chelsea Quigley
Written by
Chelsea Quigley  21/F/Waterford
(21/F/Waterford)   
105
 
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