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Sometimes people have urges.
To get rid of everyone in their life.
Sometimes those people deserve this.
And sometimes it isn't quite right.
The fact is you can not escape.
Every time something jogs your memory,
You want to jog away.
Be it in La Habana or in Rome,
Because we all suffer and laugh
In the same language.
now I drink my tea strong and my coffee black
I like the bitter taste it reminds me of reality
every morning I drink my daily dose to wake me from my dreams
It seemed you smelled
a little bit like *****,
a little bit like beer,
a little bit like dove,
a little bit like boys don't cry,
a little bit like wednesday morning.
The words I write
Are all I have
Every sentence, paragraph or script,
I hold dear.
They are my life.
It's a solitary existence.
To being rejected I'm prone
I've been left all alone
In a jail of words
I'll grab the pen once more
And my own personal prison
Will continue to grow.
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