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Rated: · Poetry · Other · #1476917
Don't have a title for this one.
Life
Goes on despite
What we wish

Death
Is the inevitable
We want to escape

Time
Is the precious thing
That we need more of

Love
Is what we are
But so awkward is it

Hate
Is corrupted love
Tainted and absolute

We
Are what we make of ourselves
Let come what may.
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