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Oct 2013
I can’t leave. There’s still to many words on this angelically anchored mind that are still chained to times long since set in sepia. Words carry too much weight for me to accept my fate at my own hand, when the warmth of a pen moving faster than my mind feels so much better than the cold steel of a trigger.
Ironic, how ink is heavier than sorrow.
Jake Conner
Written by
Jake Conner
641
   Samuel Adell
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