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Tuesday, 20 September 2011

Your flesh and blood.

18 years old, with my back to the door.
All I could hear was the family war.
Your selfish hands always expecting more.
You have a hollowed out heart, but it's heavy in your chest.
I try so hard to fight it, but it's hopeless.
You're hopeless.
You can't take back what we never had.
I can be manipulated only so many times before even I love you starts to feel like a lie.

Love, me

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