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Young Life Crisis.

A smile concealing a wound,

Bitten by an abstract hope's inevitable truth.

Chest full of a heart so good,

Mind waves, like tsunamis; a battle against a bleeding vessel.

And lifeless is a living soul, when trapped inside such belittling hell.

And I am no escape artist.

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Written by
tiffany-bourlet
American
Published
Feb 24, 2011
Lines·Words
6·47
Permission

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