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Rated: E · Poetry · Psychology · #1216064

One keeps trying and trying but never quite gets there.

Where to find

My empty soul needs to be filled with something other than the black painful rage of a lifetime of invisability

I painfully search for something to put out the fire, but I just bang my head against the wall in disgust

Is there nothing out there for me

Is there nothing in here for me

Nothing except the echos of my screams
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