A sad poem; those bad days
There's a dense fog on the brain.
Nothing really feels the same.
Crying is a natural smile,
when my mind is gone awhile.
I sense a pattern to life:
as everybody leaves me.
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There's a dense fog on the brain.
Nothing really feels the same.
Crying is a natural smile,
when my mind is gone awhile.
I sense a pattern to life:
as everybody leaves me.
Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: Truyen247.Pro