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Zach Smith Jul 2010
Blinded by your
complete insanity,
you wonder to
yourself:

Why do they
hate me?
In High School,
Democracy is dead.
Zach Smith Mar 2010
That smile
Oh, that cruel, cruel smile
You will never forget it
Nobody ever does

He was the melancholy writer
A quiet young man,
sitting alone in a cafe
on the corner

You loved him,
and he loved you
And for a short while,
He became the confident writer

But you ended it
And now,
He writes of you
Day and night

Cruel, cruel things
Just like that
terribly
cruel Smile

— The End —