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Here I am. Life's grip firmly planted on my neck But with every gasp for air I feel more alive then What it means to actually do so Living is such a funny word Only those who see its antagonist really know Its bounds but bound are those who are blind to the reap Those glasses of rose colored ignorance Shattered forevermore The struggle reflected on the pale pink shards... Innocence lost. A world once seen somehow lost in translation. I can't help but grieve for what is gone but does Its absence make me stronger? Only time's ticking clock will transcribe what is.
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Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 3:46 PM UTC
ghost story
Here I am. Life's grip firmly planted on my neck But with every gasp for air I feel more alive then What it means to actually do so Living is such a funny word Only those who see its antagonist really know Its bounds but bound are those who are blind to the reap Those glasses of rose colored ignorance Shattered forevermore The struggle reflected on the pale pink shards... Innocence lost. A world once seen somehow lost in translation. I can't help but grieve for what is gone but does Its absence make me stronger? Only time's ticking clock will transcribe what is.
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22/F/Oregon
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 3:46 PM UTC
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