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Stress, theving bastrad, stole my heart's freedom of expression. I cant even see 'em. Stole my song right out of my mouth. He has the nerve to tease me by showing me pretty things and lovely songs that i would normally never stop singing. Then he show his ugly, sad, tired, pitiful face and leaves me with the pain in my chest. The only good thing about him is that he shares well....
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/notebook/lyryc264