| This I wrote in the middle of my American Litreture English Class my Senior Year of High School. | ||||||
| Back | ||||||
| Am Lit
Pages upon pages are lost The ink dried and worn No one even notices� The small fires burn deep in the soul There has to be a way out Out of this place we call Hell In a world where nothing ever changes I look to the stars in the sky (And I can�t figure out why�) Why does this (why) have to happen (to) happen to me�(me) |
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