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Coiled around the core of my heart Is a sigh for the ***** who sold my art. I was that fiend, lusting for care, not long ago, I wrote the shame on the page I tear, I am my foe. But dead now, is that ***** ***** Buried deep within; I write for me forevermore, Yet carry still that sin.
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Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 10:03 AM UTC
***** For The Cold World
Coiled around the core of my heart Is a sigh for the ***** who sold my art. I was that fiend, lusting for care, not long ago, I wrote the shame on the page I tear, I am my foe. But dead now, is that ***** ***** Buried deep within; I write for me forevermore, Yet carry still that sin.
I used to write for the wrong reasons, but not anymore. I'll never let that ***** in me sell me out again.
david-leger
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21/M/Canadian
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 10:03 AM UTC
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