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Runaway
April 18, 2011
Eighty-five degrees out but it feels like twenty-seven below
In a room with every window open feeling like there's no air
Sitting in a crowded room yet feeling so alone
Screaming at the top of your lungs and no one even looks over
Looking at yourself in the mirror watching what you've become
The changes you made, the problems you created
But what you tore apart cannot be rebuilt
Nothing's the same now that it's destroyed.
© Anonymous
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