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Rated: 13+ · Prose · Teen · #1039874
Somedays I sit in my room and i just write what i think...
Four white walls, thats what surounds him
Look up, down, left, right
Don't think of what fills the room
Think about the memories in the room
Girls and death (in a nutshell)
The boy sits in suclusion
Pondering of his fate of these two subjects
Day by day the walls becomes filled with images
Filled with his blood smeered over the pictures of lost love
Love=myth, love=?
There is no one set equation to this answer
There is not a day that goes by when the lost loves are not there
Just look around the halls
Infested with people that don't belong together
But at the end of the day the loves is rekindled
And he thinks to himself how did the blood get there?
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