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Kate Cruz Dec 2014
Pain grips on her throat tightly
As she tries to break-free
For her yesterdays are but haunting,
Bittersweet tragedies

Her brown eyes suggest
That the storm will pass
And everything that breaks her
Must just be left in the past

Her hair is burning red
And inside, she's truly blue
So she races towards the future
Because "now" is such a cruel avenue

— The End —