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Those whispers were like a drought to me,
Leaving me dry and provoking my demon.
The colours had burst outside of me,
The darkness was all that was left inside.
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YOU ARE READING
We Don't Belong
Poetry*she stared at the other side* Was it dark or was it light? She has to choose what is right, But the shadows are fading, as shadows don't form without no light. She has to see through her mind in which she has been captured, she has to fight her dem...
