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high: on percocet and pride
Warm and comforted
But look through these eyes, deeper
See me dying on the inside
Would love to just try
Pressures bottled and builds, deeper I wish I could cry
But pride keeps me eternally fried
authors not lazy edit
Please comment, critic, anything posistive or negative. Really a change in the poem what you might have put instead of what I have, seriously whatever it can only bhelp