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Hello, my friend Thank you for holding my hand When I was just about to peel my skin Which this itch resides within Misery loves company And right now, I feel like the cynic's cynic It feels like there is no altar in this city But the closest I can come to the sky is to Find a hole and find solace in the "om" Until the sun begins to set And the people make their way home
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Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 6:07 AM UTC
Still not done with the poem
Hello, my friend Thank you for holding my hand When I was just about to peel my skin Which this itch resides within Misery loves company And right now, I feel like the cynic's cynic It feels like there is no altar in this city But the closest I can come to the sky is to Find a hole and find solace in the "om" Until the sun begins to set And the people make their way home
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Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 6:07 AM UTC
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