The End

His love seems so superficial His concern so namesake His expressions are just artificial His claims almost fake His choices spoke of his will How can his ways be insecure, so inconsiderate in its wake? With every passing day, his ways have only pushed me further away

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Quiet Night

With a chill in the air and trucks passing by, in the silence of the dim lit room all that I see is I, me and myself. With all that is probably relevant to life that is supposedly yet to come, nothing seems all that important after all. People hold over materials but what  happens…

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