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"unlucky" poems
Unlucky the hero born In this province of the stuck record Where the most watchful cooks go jobless And the mayor's rôtisserie turns Round of its own accord. There's no career in the venture Of riding against the lizard, Himself withered these latter-days To leaf-size from lack of action: History's beaten the hazard. The last crone got burnt up More than eight decades back With the love-hot herb, the talking cat, But the children are better for it, The cow milks cream an inch thick.
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The Times Are Tidy
***Imagine what would happen if suddenly All of our technology just vanished?*** I know that most think Life would become serene and peaceful With socialisation and healthy leisure All year round But if we stop and truly picture This new world What we will see Is chaos and confusion With no understanding of how To socialise besides our Digital devices And with no clue how To yield a bat and ball. Beyond this our drone-like minds Wouldn't be able to comprehend How to read or draw Magical talents belonging to An older world. How pitiful existence is With all of our life force Being ****** into these gadgets And how truly unlucky For the new generation As all their talents and mind are wasted.
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Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 1:53 AM UTC
Technology
Who falls too far from the tree? The unlucky, The unwelcome, The misfits, The free. So save your broken wings. You'll never know When you'll find them Whole again.
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Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 5:44 AM UTC
Resilience I
This poem is not pretty... It's real black and white no one wants to listen to them few want them families in shambles mom was gone long ago the ***** drug addicted, unlucky children, adults, black , white, chinese you name it they are there no work no hope hungry and ***** few notice them blending into the sidewalks 400 a night fill just one shelter one shelter of thousands crazy and sane the forgotten and the down trodden it could be you you just don't want to admit it
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Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 9:36 PM UTC
#Homeless
i guess they could call it a 'solar eclipse' when we crossed paths and i blocked your world you were brighter than me with your endless glow fiercer with your fire i was just cold and gray with my pale light reflecting your luminosity legend has it that this phenomenon was considered unlucky and i was your thorn among your rose-filled life i reckon you were getting tired as i stood in your way and bothered you endlessly and just like any ordinary 'solar eclipse' this would all have to end and it eventually did
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Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 12:10 PM UTC
Solar Eclipse
Lucky are those who have found love and been loved. Lucky are those who bear the gift of face.    Easy is for them to find an easy case             for their own taste      - a goal for their own base. Lucky are those who has an outstanding confidence. For by it, they don’t live with a doubtful fence. Freely as they get any wants in their existence. I give away smiles, pieces of my lies,         pretending not having rainy skies. Hiding my Breathless sighs. Sometimes I am like a rock    too dull to feel, a surface too rough. A sense I lost, an unreachable core, I don’t know how to love anymore. © 2014 Pax
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Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 10:26 AM UTC
Unlucky
To lie or not to lie - that is the question: Whether 'tis better to keep the truth Shutting the light in the dark, Or to bring upon pain or pleasure Why, by bringing truth, gain unwanted reaction. To lie, deceit - No more - and by secret to say what we want to say The will of truth and lie That flows from lips - 'tis an infection One craved by all. To lie, deceit - Deceit, perhaps too much. Ay, there's the problem. For in that deceit of truth what pathologic lieing may come. When we have gained such filthy pleasure from this lie, Must force us thought. That's the reality That makes chaos of such pleasure. For who really wants to hear or speak an ugly truth, The lover's love gone, the child's art trash, The woman's ugly face, the man's unattractive body, The co-worker's stench, and the embarrassing blemish That gives opportunity for lie, When they themselves would appreciate Why give them heart ache? Who would give them truth, To give them hurt, But the chance they would enjoy the truth, The unknown glee from fate's unlucky victims For the victim's mind confuses the liar And makes the liar want to speak truth And to see that reaction instead. Thus turning pathologic lieing into suthe saying, And thus the addicting infection Is cured with the disease of truth, And infection seems less appealing With this regard the lies soon stop And lose what effect they once had.
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May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 6:08 PM UTC
To Lie or not to Lie - That is the Question
In boredom Finding a good story Is like a spring In the desert
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Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 6:11 PM UTC
In Boredom (Unlucky 13)
nobody gets the cancer twice.   (a blues guitar riff) blood in the stool ain’t nobody’s fool, whent to high school did not graduate, but know it wasn’t no thing I ate scale greets me friendly like, long lost buddy from yesterday morn, ‘let get right down to it, let’s see how much less of you borne leftover alive from the prior day’ spirit spit blood from my gums, got me a woman, she’s way over town, woman said I’m brushing with too hard a brush, alright, alright, make no fuss, she’s good to me nobody’s fool whent to school, though I did not graduate, a mean riff is better than a slow moving woman blues cry, got the strings to do my screaming doctor is a fan, name is Jimmy, played music like last time round, Jimmy-jamming, dancing in the waiting room, “that cancer got kick, it’s gonna get ya, think I told ya that about hunner times before” ‘nobody gets the cancer twice,’ an old wives tale for unlucky po’ somofabitches, do you some tests, tell ya the specifics, right now, lay, lay down them new tracks, no quitting time less the good lord comes a-calling’ blues guitar makes a man cry shiver scream and shake, progressions licks and tricks, so you can’t tell what’s making a grownup man cry and laugh louder bring me my medicine bring me my guitar all I know is how it makes me feel, oh baby once a night it’s true, nobody gets the cancer twice
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Mar 17, 2018
Mar 17, 2018 at 4:00 PM UTC
nobody gets the cancer twice (a blues guitar riff)
The lone wolf howls in the dark night, casting it's shadow over the pale moonlight. On the river banks, his prey, he silently stalks. Lurking by the trees, he, so quietly, walks. The innocent deer became unknowingly a prey. Targeted by the wolf, who lives astray. Ready to strike, upon the deer her pounced. Letting out a growl, "Beware" he announced. Alas, he missed his only chance. The deer ran away in a single glance. The lone wolf whined on his unlucky loss, staring at the footprints on the soft moss. He retreated back to his hiding place. "Rest," he thought, "Rest for another chase"
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Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 11:56 AM UTC
The Lone Wolf
Season of rain is here but I don't feel a thing maybe cause the rain has always been here or is it just because its spring They say after rain comes a rainbow but I don't even see the sun only wondering where it go maybe I'm just the unlucky one I don't see the sun's brightness that resonate within me but only the rain's darkness that has always engulfed me So I always ask myself, has there always been a rainbow?
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Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 8:47 AM UTC
Does a rainbow ever come before the rain?
They say artist have a unique way Of looking at this place we call our world We miss that there is more they don't display Unlucky their vision has been disturbed You see, we think we live in harmony Blindly going on with our restless lives Ripping off their band-aide now nakedly To only be looked at as a lowlife Facing the truth in a perspective matter By various colors and feelings Watch as they pick a beautiful flower Painting black to give it a new meaning But even though they bring much delight They are curse with the artist eyesight
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Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 4:30 PM UTC
Painting a Rose Black
She is not thriving in the fancy place but she grow up with the fertile mind Other people think like she is in prison But she feels like in mansion She grow up and feel comfy Stuck in her own routine Doesn't makes her feel unlucky No one can judge her, she doesn't care She will prove it someday What she's been prepare.
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Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 6:01 PM UTC
Homegirl
I drop four ice cubes into my coke out of habit. I kiss my sweet love four times for good luck so our team can win the game. I catch myself counting to four when Im ready to speak up, I don't count to three or even ten I count to four. It was on my back in big white letters when dad looked through the chain linked fence and said with every ounce of his pride "Take it for a ride lex." That's the day I got my first homerun. That's my old man's favorite number and mine too. Ill never know why I look at him like hes god. He spelt my name wrong two years back. The letters said L-e-x-i, I whispered that's not how you spell my name it's spelled L-e-x-i-e. I whispered because I didn't want to embarrass him, I thought if I talked quiet enough no one could see my lips break around the words in shock. I was 5 when me and mom left him. The number 5 is my most unlucky number it always takes something from me, like my dog, she was in my arms on the fifth of may when heaven called for her to go home. Dad came the next day to burry her, the hole he dug was to shallow. Days after her funeral foxes came and scattered her bones across the field.   It was a treasure hunt to find all of them, I tried to save her one last time. I should really give that man a call. I'll do it tomorrow , or I'll wait for him to call. I'll count to four before I answer.
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Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 4:50 AM UTC
5.
They say in this world that everyone starts with nothing, that everyone has the opportunity to climb to the top with a cup of effort and just a sprinkle of integrity, that everyone is born equal, and that everyone succeeds. They are lying, if not to you, then to themselves. Fact is that inheritance will always be present in this world; parents will always die and pass on their wealth to their children. Whether we are aware of this or chose to acknowledge its existence is independent and non-influential to this fact. A lying billionaire may have one daughter and she may never have to genuinely work a day in her life, while an honest but unlucky displaced man may have one son and be unable to give him but a pair of shoes to place over his soft feet. We are unable to alter this occurrence, for it is natural to wish for one’s own legacy to continue not only in genes, but in wealth, fame, and power, but it is crucial to acknowledge the differences of the lives into which we are born.
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Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 1:34 AM UTC
Wealth
The fault of our reality is not written in our stars And it will not dance across unfavorable constellations, Or dissolve into inconsolable fragments. The fault, my love, is not written in our stars. It is written in ourselves. But how fortunate would it be? To cast the providence of our unlucky affairs Into the gloomy twilight, Where the sky is so unilluminated That we could close our restful eyes And fathom a world where it does not exist? But the fault, my love, is not written in our stars. It is written in ourselves. We are heavily folded sheets of stationary: A collection of utterances Bound into melancholy novels By our mangled hearts, And though spoken words Still fall onto my turning pages As tears do fall from my reddened cheeks, I have yet to forget The chapter you have left unwritten, Because an unwritten chapter is one to be adorned: It cannot end For it does not exist. And so we fumble through an amorous affliction, Fabricated into a bittersweet infinity. And at midnight, When my restless fingers ***** the empty air for you, And the reality of our desolate fault Seeps into my hands, I wish you were here. But the fault, my love, is not written in our stars. It is written in ourselves. j.s.
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Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 3:28 AM UTC
The Fault in Our Stars
Daughters in India are the most unlucky, As August may their birth be always, Unlucky their existence in vivo, Graceful be their existence, How sweet the angels, Testify the Gods, Equally well, Replied. But in India they often **** them in vivo.
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Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 8:41 AM UTC
The Girl Child - Indian Daughter
You are the town and we are the clock. We are the guardians of the gate in the rock. The Two. On your left and on your right In the day and in the night, We are watching you. Wiser not to ask just what has occurred To them who disobeyed our word; To those We were the whirlpool, we were the reef, We were the formal nightmare, grief And the unlucky rose. Climb up the crane, learn the sailor's words When the ships from the islands laden with birds Come in. Tell your stories of fishing and other men's wives: The expansive moments of constricted lives In the lighted inn. But do not imagine we do not know Nor that what you hide with such care won't show At a glance. Nothing is done, nothing is said, But don't make the mistake of believing us dead: I shouldn't dance. We're afraid in that case you'll have a fall. We've been watching you over the garden wall For hours. The sky is darkening like a stain, Something is going to fall like rain And it won't be flowers. When the green field comes off like a lid Revealing what was much better hid: Unpleasant. And look, behind you without a sound The woods have come up and are standing round In deadly crescent. The bolt is sliding in its groove, Outside the window is the black removers' van. And now with sudden swift emergence Come the woman in dark glasses and humpbacked surgeons And the scissors man. This might happen any day So be careful what you say Or do. Be clean, be tidy, oil the lock, Trim the garden, wind the clock, Remember the Two.
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The Two
You are the town and we are the clock. We are the guardians of the gate in the rock. The Two. On your left and on your right In the day and in the night, We are watching you. Wiser not to ask just what has occurred To them who disobeyed our word; To those We were the whirlpool, we were the reef, We were the formal nightmare, grief And the unlucky rose. Climb up the crane, learn the sailor's words When the ships from the islands laden with birds Come in. Tell your stories of fishing and other men's wives: The expansive moments of constricted lives In the lighted inn. But do not imagine we do not know Nor that what you hide with such care won't show At a glance. Nothing is done, nothing is said, But don't make the mistake of believing us dead: I shouldn't dance. We're afraid in that case you'll have a fall. We've been watching you over the garden wall For hours. The sky is darkening like a stain, Something is going to fall like rain And it won't be flowers. When the green field comes off like a lid Revealing what was much better hid: Unpleasant. And look, behind you without a sound The woods have come up and are standing round In deadly crescent. The bolt is sliding in its groove, Outside the window is the black removers' van. And now with sudden swift emergence Come the woman in dark glasses and humpbacked surgeons And the scissors man. This might happen any day So be careful what you say Or do. Be clean, be tidy, oil the lock, Trim the garden, wind the clock, Remember the Two.
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The door to your heart is a horrifying puzzle Your Jigsaw pattern I can't put together The pieces I hold don't correspond So I take parts from you Which is making me Leatherface And giving you a flatter taste And the ****** chain I saw placed Was pressed to your door with haste You're a killer doll like Chucky How could I have been so unlucky? I can't even cut through your curtains I become a cold corpse before the movie can start Like a careless Jamie Lee Curtis How long can such a curted courtship last? Before I contrive the courage to crush The Killer Croc in your rib cage But the corrosive corrections officer That is your puzzle piece door Impedes all progress to your horror heart Because the improper placement of pieces Will make me think you're The Witch When you tell me Don't Breathe As my theater's lights dim I scramble for an exit But my only escape from the cinema is through your door I grow cynically situated to the pitch black pictures How could I expect to solve the riddle Now that I need to? Doors that can't be opened are walls Speaking softly turns to brawls As your pieces scattered like change Your door completely wrapped in chains I feel stupid and ashamed Your puzzled movie's to blame
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Jun 17, 2017
Jun 17, 2017 at 4:16 AM UTC
Horror
All throughout History, It's always been a mystery. The most unlucky of days, On this day we change our ways. Careful what we do, Careful when we tie our shoe. Stay in and lock your door, Don't get up off the floor. Black cats and spilled salt, The broken mirror is not my fault! Avoiding ladders and a sidewalk crack, Being on guard we do not lack. Some say it's a day of fun, Others shiver, hide, and run. Some say it's black magic that comes out today, Some say that it's demons here to stay. Whatever your superstition on this very day, Everyone's wits will shred and fray. The day of bad luck comes only so often, Let's just pray it doesn't lead to a coffin.
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Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 11:57 AM UTC
Friday The 13th
Mistakes can cause great troubles Mistakes can lead to your downfall Mistakes can take away the most dearest things to your heart Mistakes can make you depressed Mistakes can make you unlucky to others Mistakes can cause pain to your loved ones But mistakes are done inadvertently So, can't mistakes be corrected? Can't mistakes be forgiven? Can't mistakes be forgotten? I believe that life always gives a second chance to those who ask for it earnestly. I asked life for a second chance so that my mistakes can be corrected, forgiven and forgotten.
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Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 9:21 AM UTC
Mistakes
Unlucky i am a black cat who has his path crossed by another Unlucky i walk under ladders i had once tried to climb just to fall back down to where i am now Unlucky i look for hope like a piece of hay in a needlestack and i'm stuck with all the pins Unlucky i look on my reflection in the mirror of my mind which my ugly sadness shatters Seven Years More... Seven Years More... i beg for a lucky charm, my 'lucky rabbit's foot'.
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May 16, 2010
May 16, 2010 at 3:15 PM UTC
Unlucky.
An urban legend of sorts they said, of a tree, of a branch that took any weight given. it has nickname It had a place in secluded nature where no one seen. **"The *** tree,** "Really, "Ye but you have to watch your step, "Why?? "Well lets just say its a well fertilized ground, "The earth and plants feed well on the, "Sap, "Seeds, Not from one but the many, I heard the branch Can take any weight, a gentlemen of plentiful weight Tested the legend and got stuck **** naked Not for a, "Moment, "Minute, "Hours, "Was he stuck, birthday suit and all, His lady friend had jogged off with wallet and all, Its on YouTube, Called tree hugger nudist, There is loads of dents little *** holes, Some say its all the ***** ******* So many hard ones poking dents, indentations forever of ******* against this tree. "I've been their done that, Really, "Never again, "Were standing on this branch, "What's that look for, "Nothing, (Giggles under breathe) "Getting into the moment, "Thought sap, "Tree sap, "Was seeping in to my hair, "Don't stop what happened stuck, *"Pants down skinny **** man up tree,* (giggles loudly) "Dude I'm 6 foot 5inches, It was sap of a different kind, (Gags in mouth) No Fudging way, Yep that's not the worst, "How the hell does some one seed a tree that high, **"It was like the tree was ******* itself,** "Old juice, sap, Klingon, "What ever I throw up on her, She bit down, I, we feel three feet out the tree, "So that's what the plaster cast is from, "Is that why your walking funny, Twenty nine stitches its like something From a Frankenstein film, Never again my friend a bed is where ill be from Now on, she fell in a puddle of Jib juice triplets She had all three different, DNA tests on all Who visited the tree. As a video recorded of all who entered, Just not the naked bits seen. **"Nature can keep its *** tree,**    "I'll be lucky if mine works again, "Mine isn't wood its a limp branch now, *"Dude you got ****** by wood,* "Bitten limp by teeth, "Unlucky bro, "Hahahahah, "Rather you than me,
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Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 5:36 PM UTC
The *** Tree
An urban legend of sorts they said, of a tree, of a branch that took any weight given. it has nickname It had a place in secluded nature where no one seen. **"The *** tree,** "Really, "Ye but you have to watch your step, "Why?? "Well lets just say its a well fertilized ground, "The earth and plants feed well on the, "Sap, "Seeds, Not from one but the many, I heard the branch Can take any weight, a gentlemen of plentiful weight Tested the legend and got stuck **** naked Not for a, "Moment, "Minute, "Hours, "Was he stuck, birthday suit and all, His lady friend had jogged off with wallet and all, Its on YouTube, Called tree hugger nudist, There is loads of dents little *** holes, Some say its all the ***** ******* So many hard ones poking dents, indentations forever of ******* against this tree. "I've been their done that, Really, "Never again, "Were standing on this branch, "What's that look for, "Nothing, (Giggles under breathe) "Getting into the moment, "Thought sap, "Tree sap, "Was seeping in to my hair, "Don't stop what happened stuck, *"Pants down skinny **** man up tree,* (giggles loudly) "Dude I'm 6 foot 5inches, It was sap of a different kind, (Gags in mouth) No Fudging way, Yep that's not the worst, "How the hell does some one seed a tree that high, **"It was like the tree was ******* itself,** "Old juice, sap, Klingon, "What ever I throw up on her, She bit down, I, we feel three feet out the tree, "So that's what the plaster cast is from, "Is that why your walking funny, Twenty nine stitches its like something From a Frankenstein film, Never again my friend a bed is where ill be from Now on, she fell in a puddle of Jib juice triplets She had all three different, DNA tests on all Who visited the tree. As a video recorded of all who entered, Just not the naked bits seen. **"Nature can keep its *** tree,**    "I'll be lucky if mine works again, "Mine isn't wood its a limp branch now, *"Dude you got ****** by wood,* "Bitten limp by teeth, "Unlucky bro, "Hahahahah, "Rather you than me,
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* I wish for the star to shine, Yet it won’t glow for me, Unlucky. * © Pax
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Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 1:49 AM UTC
a star won't glow
i miss the sadness i miss the home that never was the beautiful you never thought you were where has your pretty gone who’s wearing your flowered dress now whose lips are your boyfriends kissing who could’ve known this was to come i miss your father’s pride when you gave him a reason to be sober now all you are is disappointment another unlucky occurrence for him to sleep with on the couch his favourite drinking buddy i miss church i miss the red the pastor turned you the blood running to your holy cheeks when the congregation applauded at the fact that you would burn for this that this secret would be the end of you the ***** that came up in that bathroom the god that frowned upon the smell i miss the way boys used to look at you when you were something to be desired when you made others feel more than just confused when you weren’t an inconvenience to love you’d rather your innocence be stolen for being beautiful than for being unwanted i suppose you pick your poison i miss the way you looked every night you cried the colour mascara makes when it meets blood like drugstore lipstick at least there was something gorgeous something romantic about it the way the moonlight made your bones stick out it was something boys could fall in love with pretty girl why would you ruin yourself like this happy girl how couldn’t you see it for yourself you were a trophy your future said husband it said children it said the life we want for you forget your own you were not happy but how can you learn to be now that place that played safe haven at least, was warm you are not sure if you miss the sadness you simply know this world wants you to
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Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 12:03 PM UTC
gorgeous to hide behind
i miss the sadness i miss the home that never was the beautiful you never thought you were where has your pretty gone who’s wearing your flowered dress now whose lips are your boyfriends kissing who could’ve known this was to come i miss your father’s pride when you gave him a reason to be sober now all you are is disappointment another unlucky occurrence for him to sleep with on the couch his favourite drinking buddy i miss church i miss the red the pastor turned you the blood running to your holy cheeks when the congregation applauded at the fact that you would burn for this that this secret would be the end of you the ***** that came up in that bathroom the god that frowned upon the smell i miss the way boys used to look at you when you were something to be desired when you made others feel more than just confused when you weren’t an inconvenience to love you’d rather your innocence be stolen for being beautiful than for being unwanted i suppose you pick your poison i miss the way you looked every night you cried the colour mascara makes when it meets blood like drugstore lipstick at least there was something gorgeous something romantic about it the way the moonlight made your bones stick out it was something boys could fall in love with pretty girl why would you ruin yourself like this happy girl how couldn’t you see it for yourself you were a trophy your future said husband it said children it said the life we want for you forget your own you were not happy but how can you learn to be now that place that played safe haven at least, was warm you are not sure if you miss the sadness you simply know this world wants you to
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