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by LDA DVA Aug 11, 2008 category : Sadness, depression / other
Through this window, though hard to see; are the empty souls we used to be. And through this glass our dead-end lives, have left us little but small white lies. And past clear reflections, and heavy fear are the only things that we hold dear. So through this window we'll always see the things we hope to never be.
by Lacie
Good job your gona go far with this poem, 5\5 good luck