Young

January 11, 2010
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Did you ever wish you were someone else? Somebody, anybody rather than myself? Always attempted to fall ahead. Unresolved conflicts, shadowed faced misread. For you are a writer. Etiquette and young. Profession at your work had felt the guilt upon your tongue. Owner of the inked utensil who embraced so many lies. Its direction was so wrong, yet nobody wonders why. Were you falsley accused of something that never occurred? Son, you've convinced yourself of innocence, yet your verdict is blurred. Pierce your honesty into the heart of the lie. It'll go away, it'll be fine. But his eyes are bleeding gold tonight. His eyes are bleeding gold.





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