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Running away from,
What I have become,
Why canít I be numb?

Every second fearful ,
Every thought tearful,
Helped with a beer-ful.

All days full of hate,
You are all too late,
Iím not up for debate.
Afflicted_Amber
Written by Afflicted_Amber (Brit)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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