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24 2 6
                                    

As the trees whither away,

Will it be you who will stay,

Or will you chose to walk away,

When the pain is in the way,

And you have to pay,

By keeping those tears away,
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Have you felt blue,

But the truth is you are not being you,

Or what people think is you,

Cause you are No longer smiling,

No longer their happy virus,

Or their shinning Sun,

But instead a cold rock,

That has its walls up high,

That have been pieced together,

With the hateful words that are said,

Making you wish that you are dead,

To no longer be sad,

For me to not see my dad,

Cause the happy virus is gone.

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