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Apr 2014
Save your sorry state of somber for someone who would bother to even lift  finger for ya, tread lightly on the egg shells mixed with glass at you walk barefoot on the fragments of the past.
Complicate your mind with your own lack of self control, bury your head deep in your somber little hole,
Your pathetic, weak, with no self believe just rot away somewhere far so your god can't hear you weep,
Sleep silently because your not much good alive, before reality wakes up and takes you inside.
Jack Thompson
Written by
Jack Thompson  London
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