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Poems Tracing through coarse hands I'll trace your past. Scarred and broken It all seems to run together. Unlike anything i'm used to. Unlike anything at all. You wish you could rub your fingerprints off. Don't we all. But rubbing them seems to be the broken subject to the problems we all face A requiem to a dream of an addiction we onced faced. Pushing it aside like the trashcan of our fears. We never empty it until the stench fills our nostrils with that horendous smell. Which you couldn't tolerate up until now. Catching your breath the stale air is uncomforting. But what is? Your goals and aspirations, Your unforgettable past or your unforgettable future. Like everything it will follow you sticking to your heels like that shadow you've been hiding from. The beginning of the next day becomes a picture
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