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Jan 2014
no ones loves you,
no one hates you,
you're just there,
living in the fear.

Paint this city in their blood
Because they call you a hood.
Find the last lives,
From that above.

For the sky is crashing,
The winds are crying,
There is nothing more.

And empty silence.
Cristian Healy
Written by
Cristian Healy  Ireland
(Ireland)   
334
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