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Dead Boy

One hundred years later,

still the same person he was before.

A dying beauty,

washed up on the shore.

Gun to the head,

razors to the wrist,

the only image he had seen,

was his drunken father's clenched fists.

A fallen angel,

with broken wings,

doesn't know the way,

afraid to take the lead.

Beautiful eyes,

cry bloody tears,

because of the life he lives,

because of the deadly fears.

Now he's a dead boy,

far away from the life he faced alone,

Where he's now forgotten,

where he was never known.

A heart full of love,

mind brainwashed with hate.

A beautiful soul,

lighting the stars above.

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