somewhere deep under
there’s a poet in me...
Just when I thought
Under all these smiles are lies...
Joy
happy, content...
Perdoa meu pai
I am not a snob...
Keys on the counter
Phone on the floor...
Sometimes I think the people around me are moving...
How did I get so far ahead of these milestones...
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A writer not only writes what the writer feels but the writer can also feel what the writer writes |
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Being in love is like playing with fire you always get burned |
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Must keep my eyes open, can't fall asleep yet, I'm widely wake, but for how long? |