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Grips of Depression.
Beneath a dull, greying sky - I lay, and I watch -
You stand there on hard earth
With your outstretched arms,
Beckoning me close,
And within your eyes - resides a coldness,
And I dare say -
Belies a desperation, a vanity that encloses your heart.
Your face is a scarred mass of distrust,
And you're twisted and crippled
Yet, you've lived on -
In an endless parade of in...
Wednesday 29th June 2016 12:35 pm
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