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Poetry
Top voted Poetry
#406541voted by our readers
By aryawanda2 BRONZE
London, Other
I don't think you understand, My mind becomes a wasteland, As useless as a dead hand, Its usually a sunday morning or a friday night, I tell a lie, these last few months,...
London, Other
I don't think you understand, My mind becomes a wasteland, As useless as a dead hand, Its usually a sunday morning or a friday night, I tell a lie, these last few months,...