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Once bitten it is hard to go back.
Your teeth rot.
Your brain malfunctions.
You keep slipping more and more into reality.
You mind becomes a haze.
Some try to get out.
It's so hard.
Everyday they deteriorate more and more.
Like a rotting apple,
Soon there will be nothing left.
Some try to go back when first bitten.
Others give up and soon they all will.
Is there a way out?
Some have found it?
Will I?
Will you?

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OldYoungOne said...
Nov. 26, 2012 at 6:04 pm
The poem is a very metaphorical and full of truth. It's nice. You're a great writer
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