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Nov 2013
No matter how far we go,
Our baggage always seems to follow.
Trailing ever so slowly behind..

And then when we find somewhere we are content,
And we stop to catch our breath,

It creeps up into our wake,
Filling us with sorrow as deep and dark as a big swamp lake.
Molly O
Written by
Molly O  22/F/Alternating
(22/F/Alternating)   
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