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how am I
artistic
when all I do
is paint smiles
on everyones face
but my own?
how am I
alive
when all I do
is breathe
through the pain
all day long?
[l.b.]
2:10 a.m.
YOU ARE READING
lachrymose souvenirs
Poetry(✓) in which i desperately try to weave my burdens into poetry.
