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Nov 2014
The blows wash over me, if you think  my stares are acid wait till you hear my fire, words that burns with the spurs of hell
You have closed the loving hands I was given by my mother, feel my hardened knuckles
See the rage tear apart the face that reminds you of a lost memory, the tears remind you if head on collisions
Jake Meizell
Written by
Jake Meizell  Newark
(Newark)   
318
   Blanket and Pax
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